Playground Minds - bemorecandystore

Chapter 1: Decay

Chapter Text

It had been years since the Kilbury Playground had last been open. Seasons had passed by without a single smiling child skipping through the tangled greenery. The once bright metal had been long hidden beneath a pattern of brick-red rust, taking away the cheerful shine. Long-forgotten weeds had twisted themselves around the metal poles that anchored the swingset into the ground. The plastic seats had lost their colour many years ago, from many summers of use and wear. The playground had once seemed so happy and bright, but now held nothing more than a feeling of abandonment and long lost memories. It was impossible to say how many photographs of happy, smiling families had been taken there, how many children had run through the grass and climbed the sturdy oak trees, not worrying about a future, not truly understanding that one day it would be over.

While many children dream of growing up, some people wish they could throw themselves back into those photographs and feel that pure, unfiltered joy one more time. Childhood is impermanent, but for some it's even shorter than for others.

Michael was one of those who felt like he'd had his childhood taken away far too soon. His foster mothers had tried to give back as much as what was taken away, but the memories still left a permanent imprint. He felt like no matter what he did or said to take back what was lost, his youth was nothing more than an abandoned memory.

Michael had adored his biological parents, and they had adored him as well. He grew up as normally as anyone could expect, before the one fateful day that changed everything, that threw his life away quicker than could have possibly been anticipated.

At least he kept the photos.

Those pictures were so happy.

He traced his finger over every feature of an image of his childhood. A carefree time. He held up the slightly faded polaroid to his window, gazing over the image of himself. He couldn't have been any more than seven years old, sat on the very swings of the abandoned playground he could see from his window. If he lined up the picture, he could make it fit in perfectly, he could pretend he was still there.

He couldn't have possibly known what would happen. He was brought up so sheltered, so protected. He had only recently understood quite how brutal life truly was. He loved his biological parents, but thinking back to his life with them, he felt no sadness or longing. He didn't wish for them again, and he didn't wish he'd acted any differently. All he wanted was to feel that sense of pure, unfiltered joy that only those who don't understand reality could feel.

He just wanted to be young again.

People who knew what had happened viewed him as sociopathic for not missing living with his biological parents, but Michael knew from the very beginning that it was for the better. He needed his independence, and he needed to be understood.

It still didn't make up for what he had lost.

He'd lost trust. Before that day, he felt like people were so predictable, and so easy to understand. People could change in an instant, and you had to accept it. You couldn't change someone's mind once it was made.

Opinions are a force far too strong for words and emotions to break. The way he had been viewed had proved to him that the mark of a person who truly cares is being able to change your beliefs to protect someone.

His parents hadn't wanted to protect him. They'd wanted him to be as they were. Nothing would make that a healthy way to grow up, which was the simple explanation as to why the memories of them meant nothing more to him than the memories of anyone else he used to know.

He sighed, placing the polaroid into a drawer of other such photographs, trying to push the memory out of his mind. He let his eyes fall on the abandoned playground once again, the eerie stillness sending chills down his spine. It felt so unusual to see something so commonly associated with playfulness and fun be so broken and decayed. The mere thought of it left him with an empty pit in his stomach, a feeling of hopelessness and loss.

Before the feeling could intensify, he quickly closed the curtains, turning away from his desk and heading towards his bed, flicking off the small lamp that had been illuminating his bedroom and pulling the duvet over himself, his glasses now resting next to his bed.

Why did sleeping have to be difficult? He should be used to this home by now, considering the few months he'd been there. Tiredness seemed like a distant feeling. He had too much on his mind to be tired. He wanted to trust his new foster carers, but he couldn't bring himself to. They seemed so sweet and caring and supportive, and he wanted more than anything to know they'd look after him, but he was still skeptical. He turned over, burying his face in his pillow, trying to block everything out.

Thoughts blew through his mind the way that wind blows rain into the face of anyone who dares to venture outside. His mind was a roaring thunderstorm, thoughts coming and going like a lightning flash. He reached down next to his bed, feeling a slight comforting softness, wrapping his hand around the leg of a teddy bear and pulling it up next to him. He grabbed his glasses and pushed them on to his face as he sat up.

Jeremy, his lifelong best friend, had given it to him the day after his happiness had been taken away. It was small, with light brown fur and red paws. He traced his finger over the white embroidery over one of the feet.

"I'll always be there for you."

He turned it over, undoing the velcro at the back, revealing a small pouch containing a letter. He'd read and reread this letter so many times that he couldn't even begin to count them. It was a message of support that he would never forget.

To Michael,

No matter what happens, no matter what people say, I'll always be there for you. I won't ever hesitate to speak up for you or to be there when you need someone. I can't even begin to understand what you're going through, but I'll always be available to listen if you need someone. You're my best friend, and nothing will change that for us. If you need to cry, or if you just want to be left alone, I understand. I have no idea how difficult it is, and the last thing I want is to make it more difficult for you. I'm sorry I can't help more than this. I wish I could fix things for you. You're my favourite person, and I'm going to help you as much as I can.

-Jer

Michael carefully folded up the letter once more, putting it back safely in the pouch. He hugged the bear tightly, taking a deep breath, before attempting to sleep once more. Though it wasn't easy, he let the comfort of knowing there was someone who'd always be there lull him into a light, dreamless sleep.

Chapter 2: Trust

Chapter Text

Michael groaned as that all-too-familiar beeping of his alarm started up again. He sat up groggily, outstretching a tired arm to turn off the piercing sound.

He dragged himself out of bed, not wanting anything more than to return to the comforting warmth. Time wouldn't allow that. It passes by with no rhyme or reason, pushing life forward with nothing to gain and nothing to lose. Whatever time is, it has a cruel sense of humour. Anything you would want to forget creeps past, continuing to haunt you, whereas those moments you wish you could savour the experience of race past as fast as they can possibly manage.

He flicked on the lights, wandering over to his closet and grabbing a sweater covered in patches. It had been a gift from his foster mothers a few weeks after he'd moved in. A symbol of acceptance, a way of showing him that they appreciated his interests and cared about who he was as a person.

He smiled slightly, looking over every single neatly stitched patch. Maybe this was the right place for him. It was better than the other couple of places he'd stayed. It was much quieter, while every other place had been big families without a single chance of peace and quiet, this was simply two women who wanted a child, heard about what had happened and decided that he was a good choice.

He was still unsure of if he could fully trust them, but they had definitely made a better impression on him than any of his past 'families' had.

He threw on the red hoodie with a plain pair of blue jeans, before moving over to his backpack and packing a few things for school. He grabbed his headphones, putting them around his neck and making his way downstairs.

He gave his foster mothers a small smile when he saw them. He still didn't call either of them 'mom', only referring to them by their names, which he only did rarely.

Catherine was a sweet, short woman with long hair, which she had dyed a very light shade of pink. She was always slightly dressed up, with intricate makeup looks and high-end clothes. She had been a model when she was younger, also dabbling in acting and singing, ending up as a theatre teacher. If there was one thing she missed more than anything, it was performing in musicals. She still had some old posters dotted around the house, and had kept a few shirts from amateur productions here and there.

Vivian, on the other hand, was noticeably taller than her wife, with dark hair and serious features. She had the same kind personality as Catherine, but seemed much more reserved from an outside perspective. She worked in a hospital, mostly as a first responder to injured patients. Her hair was always pulled away from her face in a ponytail, and she rarely wore makeup, claiming she didn't have the time for it.

Despite still not fully trusting them, Michael liked them both much more than he'd liked any of his other carers. They were much more understanding. He wasn't forced to call them 'mom', and he wasn't told he immediately had to fit in. He was allowed to move at his own pace.

Catherine gave him her typical sunny smile, before looking back to the pans she was standing over. It was her day off, so she had decided to make breakfast.

"Want some?" She asked, her sweet voice giving Michael a sense of comfort.

He nodded, sitting down at the nearby table with a quiet, polite reply of "Thank you."

She pushed a plate of pancakes and bacon towards him.

"That hoodie really suits you, you know?" She told him, beaming. "We weren't sure if you'd like it." She added on.

"It's really nice," Michael told her, still managing no more than a small smile. He finished eating quickly, checking his watch to see that he didn't have too much time left, before standing up and grabbing his bag.

"Have a nice day, Michael," Vivian told him, waving him goodbye.

"I'll try," he joked, turning and giving them both a small wave before walking through the door and beginning to walk to school.

This part of his walk was always eerily alone. When he used to take this route there would always be a sense of creeping paranoia as he heard nothing more than his feet scraping over the rocky sidewalks. That had been much less of an issue once he decided to start listening to music. It was more peaceful that way, and felt much less exposed.

"Yo! Michael!" He heard a familiar voice call from behind him. He turned around and couldn't help but smile as he saw Jeremy run up to him, a look of excitement on his face.

"Jeremy!" He replied, instinctively doing their signature handshake. "You look happy, anything interesting happen?"

"Christine texted me! Like, she actually initiated a conversation that wasn't just a reply to some dumb meme I sent her!" Jeremy's face was bright and cheerful, a feeling that clearly spread to the rest of his body as well, as he could barely walk next to Michael without seeming to bounce with every step.

"Dude, that's awesome!" Michael replied. "So when's the wedding?" he teased.

Jeremy gave him a playful punch on the shoulder, "As if I'd ever even have the courage to ask her out. It would probably go wrong anyway."

"You'll never know if you don't try, though. You might as well go for it," He suggested. "I can help you figure out how to ask her?"

"No offence, but you have even less relationship experience than I do," Jeremy joked. "Speaking of relationships, do you like anyone?"

"Still no," Michael said with a slight sigh. He hadn't liked anyone for a couple of years at this point, and had felt like it was completely hopeless through some of that. "It's kind of annoying. Nobody at our school is that attractive, and if they are, then they're also assholes to go along with that."

"I'm sure we'll find someone for you. You shouldn't force yourself to like anybody, you know?" Jeremy said in his typical supportive manner, receiving a nod from Michael.

The two boys eventually arrived at school, chatting about nothing in particular the entire way there.

"Stop calling me a simp just because I like Christine!" Jeremy protested against Michael's teasing, stepping into the hallway.

"Okay simp," Michael replied with a slight laugh, stopping at his locker to grab a book he was reading for English.

Despite the cheerful start to the day, Michael could barely get through class without his eyes drooping. He was sleeping much less than normal, so was finding it more difficult to concentrate. Luckily enough, he was still managing decent grades, so no concern was raised about him. He didn't like his situation being put in the spotlight.

As he was lost in tired thought, he saw a familiar classmate walk through the door, giving a quiet apology to the teacher for being late.

Rich Goranski was one of the popular kids, but his personality didn't seem to match with his friendship group. A lot of the time he would make the same sarcastic comments as them, and make fun of the same students, with Michael often included, but it never seemed like he meant what he said. Additionally, Michael had noticed a weird pattern in Rich's clothes and his behaviour. The weather would never have any impact on what Rich was wearing, but there were noticeable differences in personality. When he had his typical short sleeved muscle tee, the way he acted would seem much more typical of what was expected from him. The unusual part of the pattern, however, was when his arms were covered. He spoke in a much quieter tone than normal, and seemed more anxious and apologetic.

Today was long sleeves. Yesterday hadn't been. The contrast was slightly creepy, as if a completely different person had turned up to school in his place. People never seemed to notice it though, and if they did they decided not to comment. They were busy with other things, and it simply wasn't worth their time.

He sat down at an empty desk near the front, grabbing his notebook. His hands were shaking slightly, looking as if he could drop his pen at any moment. There were times where Michael wanted to ask if he was okay, but he couldn't justify the risk of the bullying he'd endure from Rich's friends.

The sleeve pattern probably didn't mean anything anyway, right?

Chapter 3: Tears

Chapter Text

The day seemed to continue without anything eventful happening, time ticking by in its usual painfully slow fashion. Michael caught a few more glances of Rich throughout the day, seeing him in the same noteworthy quiet fashion as earlier. He wasn't eating in the cafeteria, he barely spoke to his friends, and he was constantly pulling his sleeves down over his hands in a nervous, repetitive fashion.

Michael couldn't help but be curious about it, but was unsure of how to bring it up when he only saw Rich in the hallways or at the opposite side of a classroom. Anyway, it might seem weird if someone Rich had never spoken to before came over and asked about his life.

He pushed the thought out of his mind as the bell rang to signify the end of the day, pushing his notes into his bag and walking out of the classroom.

He walked home by himself, as Jeremy had signed up for the play for a chance to talk to Christine more and had rehearsal most days after school. Michael was happy that Jeremy was becoming closer with Christine but it left him with a slight sense of fear about being forgotten, as much as he didn't want it to. Was it too much to ask to just be happy for his best friend?

He couldn't completely blame himself for being scared though, as much as his conscience told him it was his own fault. Jeremy had a few people, but Michael just had Jeremy. God, it was so selfish of him to think that way when Jeremy hadn't had it easy either. He pushed any jealousy or negativity away and focused on being happy for his best friend. Jeremy really deserved something good happening.

He unlocked the door to his house, walking in and smiling at Catherine, who was sewing something and humming along to a song from the Beetlejuice soundtrack.

"Hey, honey," She said, her sweet voice being able to lift anyone's mood. "How was your day?" She asked him, genuinely seeming interested.

"It was okay. Jeremy is getting along really well with this girl he likes, so that's pretty good," He replied.

"Awww! That's cute. You can invite Jeremy over any time you want to, you know?" She told him.

He nodded in response, knowing his foster moms wanted to meet his friends but still feeling too awkward. "I've gotta go upstairs and get some homework done. I have some stupid project I need to do," he mentioned, changing the subject.

"Tell us if you need any help," she offered, receiving another smile from Michael.

Michael made his way up to his bedroom, opening his bag and starting to work through a maths sheet. He struggled through it for a while, eventually completing it. He got out his laptop and began scrolling through the internet, before noticing something out of the corner of his eye.

The swing was moving.

Somehow creepier than the consistent stillness was the fact that through the shaded, quiet park there was consistent inactivity, aside from one swing.

"It's gotta just be the wind, right?" Michael mumbled out loud, before noticing that a pale silhouette appeared to be walking away from the park. He had no idea who it could be, having not seen anyone around there the entire time he'd lived there.

He tried to brush it off, doodling in his sketchbook, something he normally did while slightly anxious. His drawings were decent, but nothing incredible. They were quite scribbly, and clearly demonstrated his nervousness. He used them to express thoughts that just didn't make sense in words.

He looked over again and began to examine the playground he used to know so well. The shadows the trees created gave the whole area an elusive, hidden feel. It seemed like something out of a horror film. There was no way of knowing what could be hidden within the forest behind it. Michael's stomach felt strange looking at it. An empty kind of pain, like he hadn't eaten in days. He wanted to enjoy another day at that playground, to joke around and have fun.

At least he wasn't struggling as much as he was before. He was moved between foster homes over and over for being 'antisocial' and 'problematic'. Everybody immediately expected him to conform and accept what had happened, but it was just impossible.

He'd be constantly forced to do 'family activities' with people he barely knew. He'd snap at the other kids there with him, would cause arguments, and in general would just want to be left alone. Despite taking care of many foster children, these people never seemed to understand that it just wasn't that easy to accept a completely different life.

Catherine and Vivian, after hearing about Michael's situation, had immediately offered to take him in. They had been warned about his behaviour and emotions, but understood more than anyone else why he might be acting that way. They gave him his own space and were allowing him to take his time to open up. They were so caring in a way that Michael didn't feel like he deserved.

Being snapped out of his thoughts, he noticed the same pale silhouette he'd seen earlier climbing over the fence into the park. He couldn't pick out any details, aside from the fact that whoever it was must have been freezing. They weren't wearing anything more than a t-shirt, and it was pretty cold outside, considering that it was January. He felt pity towards this person he didn't know, their subtle movements indicating that they were crying. Their arms were slightly blotchy, showing that they may have been bruised.

He wished he had the confidence to go outside and talk to them, but he understood that people sometimes just want to be alone.

He continued watching through the window, wondering if he should try to help them. Their soft crying appeared to become slightly heavier, and they were very jumpy, constantly twisting their head to see if anyone was around.

Eventually, Michael turned away, getting distracted by some other annoying school thing, messaging Jeremy to complain about it. An hour later, he noticed the mysterious figure leave. This person, who Michael felt so much empathy towards, had walked out alone in the freezing cold, sat down with nobody to talk to in an abandoned playground, and cried. He hadn't turned to anyone when he needed help, deciding to isolate himself in an open space. He wished he could have helped them, but he just had no idea what to do. He hated seeing people suffer.

If that person ever came back, Michael would have to help them.

Chapter 4: Nostalgia

Chapter Text

The next day, the mystery person at the swing was still on his mind, even as he distracted himself with music on his walk to school. He wanted to help them, whoever it was. It didn't matter to him that he didn't know whoever was there, he still felt empathetic towards them and wished he could assist in some way.

He hoped the rest of the day would be normal, so he wouldn't have too much to think about, smiling as he saw Jeremy meet him in their usual place.

"Hey Michael, how's life?" He asked in a cheerful tone.

"Boring, as per usual," He replied, slowing down the pace he was walking at. "How about you?"

"Pretty decent. Play rehearsal is going well, and Christine is talking to me pretty much every single time we see each other," He told his best friend.

"You're so obsessed," Michael teased. "Try not to scare her off."

"I won't, we're just friends," He told him, slightly defensive.

Michael laughed, continuing the playful conversation. He wondered to himself if he should tell Jeremy about what he'd seen the night before. Jeremy might find it weird that he watched the playground for so long, or might tell him that he was overthinking it and it was just someone struggling a bit. After a while, he decided to mention it.

"So, this weird thing happened last night..." He started, Jeremy immediately seeming interested.

"Spill," Jeremy said, almost immediately.

"Ok, so, I was looking out the window at that playground opposite my house, and it's been completely abandoned for years. I've never seen anybody there since it closed, but there was someone on the swing," He recounted, trying to be as accurate as he could with it.

"That's kinda weird, were they doing anything dodgy?"

Michael shook his head. "They were crying. They sat in the freezing cold without a sweater or anything for about an hour, sitting there and crying. I felt so bad for them. They had these marks all over their arms as well. They looked like bruises."

"sh*t, were they okay?" Jeremy asked, receiving a shrug from Michael.

"I didn't ask. If they come back I might try and do something nice. Am I overreacting to this? I don't even know them," He questioned.

"I don't think you are. I think that's actually really kind," Jeremy reassured him.

"Thanks," Michael replied with a soft smile, pulling his friend into an awkward side-hug.

The day passed by without much event, with Rich still seeming noticeably quieter than usual, following his similar pattern. Throughout the day, he seemed to get more and more nervous, and even seemed to flinch slightly when the final bell rang to dismiss people. His movements were slow and wary, and what annoyed Michael more was that not a single one of Rich's friends seemed to notice anything was wrong. How could they all seem so blind? He didn't have any idea of what could be going on, but this pattern was too obvious to ignore.

He walked home with that feeling of slight annoyance persisting. He didn't know why Rich's behaviour intrigued him so much, but it seemed so much like a complete middle finger to Rich that he seemed to be so ignored by the people who were supposed to be his friends.

He unlocked the front door, still lost heavily in thought. He didn't even look over towards Catherine, and Vivian was still at work. He just went straight up to his room. He searched through his closet, coming up with an idea. He picked up a plain black hoodie, and grabbed a sheet of paper, writing a note.

'I'm so sorry if this seems weird, but I saw you out here yesterday. I wanted to help but I'm not really sure what to do. It's cold outside. You must have been freezing yesterday. I hope this helps a bit.'

He folded up the hoodie and tucked in the note, stepping outside the house before he could hesitate.

An entangled mix of familiarity and distance filled Michael's stomach more and more as he took each individual step towards the place which held so many memories. He took a second to admire the mix of rusted metal which surrounded him. It seemed as every piece of colour had been drained. The oddest sense was that he felt that this park almost had an obligation to feel happy, but each step could only remind him of the joy being taken away. It was like a drought, removing life and leaving only deserted towns.

He attempted to push away the borderline pain that had erupted inside him, focusing only on helping someone in their time of need. Despite trying to ignore it all, the sense of a forgotten happiness caused his eyes to well up slightly, threatening to spill. He placed the hoodie with the note tucked inside down on the swing, hoping his small act might help.

He turned back quickly, keeping his head down as he walked back across the empty street. He opened the front door and was greeted by a confused Catherine.

"What happened?" She asked, having seen him leave. Michael silently wiped his eyes, hating himself for seeming so vulnerable in front of her. "What is it, love?"

Michael sat himself down on the couch, taking a deep breath and trying to explain.

"So, I was watching through my window yesterday and I saw someone sat on the swing, and they were crying. They left and ended up coming back even more upset than before. They didn't have a coat or anything so I wanted to help and left a hoodie with a note in case they come back." He replied, having managed to slow his breathing. However, as soon as he continued the emotions came back. "it was just... it was strange. I used to love that place, b-but being back there, it just..." He sighed and stopped talking.

Catherine seemed to understand, nodding her head at him as he wiped his eyes once more. "Can I give you a hug?" She asked, wrapping her arms around him as soon as he quietly whispered a yes to her. "You're a good person. You did a good thing. I'm sure whoever that person is will be thankful for your help."

"Thank you," He replied, pulling away slightly from the hug.

"I love you, Michael," She reassured. She'd told him this very phrase a few times, but she never pressured him to say it back if he wasn't ready to say it. He'd gone through many difficult issues with family and didn't need any extra stress.

"I'll be upstairs," He hesitated, showing that what she said had been noticed by him and he'd had to consider how to reply to it. He immediately regretted sounding so cold and uncaring, but decided to leave before he said something that made it worse.

As soon as he got to his bedroom he allowed the nostalgia to take over a bit more. He started to cry softly, nothing more than quiet sniffles able to be heard as he reminisced about the past. He wished for the feeling of being cherished, adored like a young child in a family typically is. He still didn't feel like part of a family, more like an inconvenience who just so happened to have ended up there.

In his nostalgic stupor, he hadn't noticed that the person had entered the playground once more, and was now sitting on the swing once more. Even more importantly, they were wearing Michael's hoodie.

As soon as he glanced up and noticed this, he felt a slight indication of relief. Maybe he'd made someone's bad day slightly better. He still couldn't pick out any features of this person, but the hoodie was definitely too big for them, indicating that they were probably quite a bit shorter than him.

He began to scroll through the internet as he typically did, every so often glancing up to see the person still sitting there.

He sighed as he was called down for dinner, not feeling particularly social at that moment. It was the typical conversation, asking about one another's day, etcetera. That person never left Michael's mind. It was so intriguing to him that someone would prefer to sit in the playground which had sucked every ounce of joy from him than to be in a different situation. He felt slightly pained thinking about it.

Vivian noticed the unusual way Michael was acting. This was reserved, even for him. He tried to brush off the question, but eventually gave in and told her what had happened. He needed to try and be more open, anyway. She told him a similar thing as her wife had, about the fact that he had helped someone who was likely struggling and he was a good person.

Once he returned to his room he instantly looked out of the window again. He watched as the person stood up and left, taking off the hoodie. They quickly scribbled something else on the paper, leaving the hoodie exactly as they had found it. Michael gave it a few minutes just to be safe, before darting to the playground and checking what was written, keeping his head down so as not to acknowledge his surroundings.

'Thank you, I appreciate it.'

The sleeves of the hoodie were slightly damp, as if tears had been wiped away, causing a pit to grow in Michael's stomach. He also saw slightly dark marks on the sleeves, which were likely dried blood from an injury. He felt even worse for this person having noticed that, and quickly decided to add to the note.

'Keep it. I wish I could help you more.'

Chapter 5: Breath

Notes:

(Warning: The majority of this chapter is about self-harm)

Chapter Text

Michael could feel slightly better going to bed that night knowing he had tried his best to help someone who needed it, even if it wasn't much. The feeling of at least trying to make something slightly better was good, but unfortunately good things don't last.

Michael felt stupid to think that his tiny action would help someone. He wasn't important enough for that. He would never be able to make a difference to somebody. He was just there, struggling too much in himself to ever even start to impact another person. He'd been completely shattered to pieces, and how could he possibly start to repair someone else when he had barely started to fix himself.

He subconsciously pulled his sleeves down over his hands, trying to block out the actions he'd made in the past. He had no control over any aspect of his life, the pain giving him something to focus on and to care about. He couldn't stand to look at his arms any more. He felt like he'd ruined himself. Even in the shower he couldn't look at himself, trying to hide away everything he could. His self hatred began to pile up, more and more bricks building a wall in his mind.

He pulled back his sleeve, looking over the marks that still hadn't faded away, and likely never would. Lines littered his arms, causing disgust and anger to build up in his mind,. He was so f*cking stupid, he couldn't do anything right. Those stupid f*cking lines that would always be there.

He couldn't f*cking take it. He was spiralling again.

Michael walked over to a small box he kept, every part of his body shaking. He searched through the pictures, pushing them out of the way to find a silver razor blade. Before he could hesitate, he dragged it over his arm again, letting the familiar pain come back. He felt nothing but pure anger at himself. He wasn't even sad. He didn't cry, he just dragged the blade over and over. He was disgusting and he knew that.

He'd never help anyone.

He'd never make anyone feel better.

He was just there, and he was easy to get rid of.

He threw the blade down onto his desk in anger and watched as the blood he felt he deserved oozed out of open wounds. He didn't even hear the door creak open behind him.

"Michael?" Vivian whispered, before letting out a slightly muffled gasp. "Oh, honey," she comforted in a similar quiet tone, a pained sadness in her voice. Before Michael could turn around to apologise to her and beg her not to get rid of him, she was gone.

Of course Catherine and Vivian both knew about this, they'd had to be told after he'd moved out of his most recent home. His previous carers had decided to get rid of him for this very reason, stating that it was much too difficult to handle. As soon as it wasn't convenient, people were able to throw him away.

The emotions finally caught up to him and he started to sob violently. This was nothing like the quiet tears when the memories of the playground caught up to him. This was sudden and loud, and he was struggling to breathe. He finally had carers who felt more like a family than he'd had in a long time, and he was pushing them away. His hands were shaking violently, and his leg was bouncing rapidly out of anxiety.

Vivian returned silently, a first aid kit in her hands, she took Michael's hand and led him to his bed, sitting down next to him. Not saying a word, she opened it and took out a small bottle of antiseptic, dripping some onto a cotton ball.

"I'm so sorry, Michael," she mumbled, keeping her tone soft as she wiped away blood from his wounds. "I wish you didn't have to go through this all, sweetie. I know you're struggling, and I'm not annoyed. Please don't be scared that we'll move you on to someone else like those other people did. What they did wasn't right. It wasn't right at all. We just want to be there for you, dear. Even if you feel like giving up on yourself, we're not going to give up on you."

Michael took in every word, giving her slight nods to show that he understood. He could barely see through his tears, but the sadness in Vivian's words and actions hung in the atmosphere enough for him to feel extremely guilty about what he'd done. She stopped wiping away the blood, checking that the cuts had stopped bleeding before wrapping his arm up tightly in a bandage.

Michael was rarely physically affectionate, but the feeling of being cared for was enough for him to wrap his arms around Vivian, hugging her tightly. He breathed a sigh of relief as she hugged him back, rubbing her hand up and down his back as he gasped for air through his sobs. She began to whisper to him, slowing down and timing her breathing, hoping Michael would copy. Eventually he was able to slow down, breathing more deeply. He pulled away from the hug, still shaking.

"We'll always be here for you," She reminded him, "No matter what you need you can always come to us."

"Thank you," Michael sniffled, wiping his eyes. "I'm so sorry."

"Don't apologise, honey. You have nothing to apologise for. This isn't easy, and I don't want you to go through it alone," she insisted, holding both of Michael's hands in her own.

At this point, Catherine had heard them talking and checked in his room to see if things were okay. She saw the bandage around his arm and immediately figured out what had happened, a solemn look on her face. She walked into his room, sitting next to him on the opposite side of Vivian.

"Mind if I give you a hug?" She asked, her voice faltering slightly. Michael noticed the way her blue eyes were shining with tears, and nodded. He felt two pairs of arms wrapping around him, holding him tightly. With this, his breath finally slowed to a normal pace and the tears began to roll down his cheeks much less frequently. He felt a soft hand on his cheek wipe away a tear. He felt cared for. He felt loved. In this home he didn't feel useless or like a burden as he had in every other place. Vivian and Catherine were some of the sweetest people he had ever met.

He pulled away from the hug slightly, with his foster mothers both reminding him that they love him.

"We'll leave you alone now, okay?" Catherine offered, walking towards Michael's bedroom door, with her wife following behind her.

Michael decided to tell them something that it had taken a lot of thinking to decide. He struggled to get the words out before they left. They bubbled in his brain but wouldn't dare escape his lips. He hesitated for a second, before forcing them into the air.

"I think..." He hesitated. "I think this might be the right place for me."

Catherine and Vivian's faces both immediately broke into wide smiles, ambushing Michael with another tight hug. Catherine quickly placed a kiss on his forehead.

"We love having you here. We really really do," emphasised Catherine, "It's late now honey, you should sleep," She added on, ruffling his hair.

"Goodnight, Catherine. Goodnight, Vivian," He replied, wiping away the last couple of tears that remained as the two women left the room. He leaned back on his bed with a small smile on his face. He felt like, for the first time in a long time, he'd gotten lucky with something. Things appeared to be looking up, with the very first shattered pieces of himself coming back together. He just wished he could pick up all the other pieces and force them together, but one thing he had to realise is that they couldn't stay together if there was nothing holding them together.

He had to try and fix himself so he could help other people.

Chapter 6: Friendship

Chapter Text

Michael let out a slight annoyed groan as he woke up the next day, his arm stinging slightly. He was still annoyed at himself for what had happened, but decided to try and move on instead of focusing on it, ignoring the tightly wound bandage. Aside from that, everything seemed perfectly normal.

The morning passed as it normally did, with his foster mothers both seeming slightly more soft and affectionate than normal, likely as a result of the events that happened the night before. They were both such kind people, and Michael felt like he'd truly got lucky this time in terms of where he ended up. He left the house, in a much better mood than he often would be in in the morning, waiting for Jeremy outside his house instead of hoping he'd catch up.

"Sup?" he heard Jeremy say from behind him. "How's it going?"

"It's going good," Michael replied, smiling. "I came to a pretty important conclusion yesterday."

"Ooh, tell me" He responded, interested.

"I told Catherine and Vivian that I think their home is the right place for me. It just feels right," He stated, noticing a wide, happy smile spread over Jeremy's face.

"Dude! That's amazing!" His best friend exclaimed, immediately tackling him with a hug.

"I know! I finally feel like I belong," He remarked with a relieved sigh. "Finally." Jeremy nodded, his mood clearly also lifted by the situation. "Wanna come over? They said I can invite you round pretty much whenever."

"Would tonight be cool? Dad's going on another date tonight so it'd just be me and video games again," Jeremy asked.

Michael immediately got out his phone to text Catherine, who replied almost as quickly as the text was sent.

"She says you can come and she's excited to meet you," Michael told him, a clear happy tone in his voice.

"Sounds awesome," Jeremy responded, excited to go to Michael's house for the first time in over a year.

The day passed without much incident, the classes being as dull and monotonous as they typically were. Rich still didn't seem back to his normal self, but he was certainly more talkative than he'd been over the past couple of days. Michael didn't know why he paid so much attention to him anyway, he was probably just another one of those popular jerks who happened to be quieter sometimes, and maybe struggled a bit more than his friends did. It probably wasn't anything to take note of, and even if it was it wasn't his business.

As the clock ticked towards the end of the day, Michael began to feel nervous. He was scared Jeremy wouldn't like his foster carers, or they wouldn't like him. He didn't want anything to go wrong when things finally began to go right. As the day ended, he left with Jeremy, walking towards his house, their typical small talk continuing.

As they reached Michael's, Jeremy prepared to introduce himself, standing behind his best friend with a feeling of excitement and nervousness tangled in his stomach.

Michael unlocked the door, walking in. Before Jeremy could say a word, and excited, pink haired woman began to speak.

"Hey Michael!" She chirped, giving him a small wave. Her tone of voice was sweet and cheerful, and made him feel comforted. "And you must be Jeremy!" She added on, walking towards him and offering her hand for him to shake.

He shook her hand and returned her smile, nodding. "Yeah, he invited me over this morning."

"Me and Vivian have been waiting to meet you. She'll be home in about an hour, by the way. We've heard a lot about you," She told him.

"You have?" Jeremy asked, both flattered and surprised.

She nodded, pointing him towards a framed picture of Michael and Jeremy aged about seven, which they had let Michael put up to help him feel more at home. Jeremy glanced over and smiled.

"You're sappy, Michael," Jeremy joked, having waved goodbye to Catherine, walking up the stairs to Michael's room.

"Dude, you're like the only constant I've had for twelve years," He replied. "You're my favourite person."

Jeremy smiled, pulling his best friend into a quick hug.

They continued to talk for a while, getting out Jeremy's laptop to play some video games, before Michael noticed something.

"Jer, look out the window," he quickly mumbled, seeing the same person sat on the swing, wearing his hoodie.

Jeremy looked up and immediately saw what Michael was referring to. "Is that the same person?" He asked, receiving a nod. "How many nights have they been there?"

"This is the third I think. I've never seen them before this week, so it might just be a difficult week or something, but it's unusual, isn't it?" He questioned.

Jeremy agreed, but didn't feel like there was much else to say about it, and the conversation quickly returned to normal. The games continued for a while, then the boys were called down for dinner.

Jeremy got along just as well with Vivian as he had done with Catherine, happily chatting to them both. He felt a sense of comfort knowing his best friend was with people who seemed so kind. The time passed normally, with Jeremy and Michael soon returning to Michael's room.

"I think you're right, Michael. This does seem like a pretty good place for you to live," Jeremy remarked, seeming upbeat as usual.

Michael nodded, "Yeah, they both really helped me last night."

"What happened last night?" Jeremy asked, a simple offhanded remark.

Michael froze, feeling like he'd messed up. "Uh, just, like, homework things," He stuttered, sounding unconvincing.

Jeremy eyed him suspiciously, "Are you sure? You know you can trust me, right?"

Michael nodded slightly. "Yeah, I know, I just don't know if it's important to mention." He had subconsciously started to play with his sleeves, which led to Jeremy noticing the bandage wound around his arm.

He pulled Michael into a hug, sad but understanding. "You can always talk to me if you need to. Don't feel like you have to bottle everything up."

Michael pulled away, giving him a reserved smile and nod. At this moment, he noticed something out of the corner of his eye.

The person in the playground had got off the swing, taking off Michael's borrowed hoodie. They picked up the note Michael had left, studying it carefully. Reluctantly, they picked up the hoodie and pulled it on once again, obscuring their face with the hood. They began to play with the sleeves, which seemed noticeably too long. The hoodie was definitely too big for them, in a slightly endearing way. They seemed comforted by the warm fabric, and walked in a much less hidden way, not facing towards the ground.

"You're a good person, Michael," Jeremy said softly, watching what had happened.

"I wanna find out who they are," He replied. "But I won't intrude, that's creepy. I just wish I could help more."

"I get it. Helping people is nice," Jeremy replied.

A quiet vibration ran through the table as Jeremy's phone buzzed, the screen lighting up. He glanced over the message and his face fell, light quickly leaving his eyes. He read out the message, his voice shaking.

"Hi, Jeremy. Jenna told me how you feel and I'm sorry, but I don't see you as any more than a friend. You're sweet but I just don't like you that way. See you at play rehearsal. -Christine."

Jeremy turned his head away from Michael, putting his phone back down on the table as soon as he'd finished reading the message.

"Are you okay?" Michael whispered, knowing the answer.

"Let's play games," Jeremy replied, his voice barely audible. As he turned his head towards the laptop, Michael could see the held back tears in his eyes. Knowing not to push it, he nodded and started the game again.

For the rest of the evening, Jeremy was almost silent, his shaky hands fumbling over the controller. Michael felt sad for him, wishing things had worked out better. Jeremy deserved someone good, and Michael had hoped Christine would be that person. It was strange to see his awkward, yet typically cheerful friend so destroyed by something.

When the evening came to an end and Jeremy went home, Michael was left with a lingering sadness, wanting to see his friend smile again.

He just wished everyone could be happy.

Chapter 7: Label

Chapter Text

The next morning had seemed so incredibly normal, so completely unnoticeable that Michael let himself fall into a false sense of security, thinking life was seeming not to f*ck him over as it normally did, before being reminded of yesterday's events by a heartbroken Jeremy walking up to him.

"You ok?" Michael asked, his voice soft, trying to comfort his friend.

Jeremy sighed and shook his head, his movements much smaller than they would be on a regular day. "I just... I can't believe what happened with her. I thought I had a chance."

Michael thought through what to say for a minute, before opening his mouth and starting to say something, his words slow and careful. "I know I'm not great for advice, seeing as I've never had a relationship and I've not had a crush on anyone in a long time, but I just wanna let you know that I'll always be here if you need to vent to someone, or if you wanna cry, or if you just wanna distract yourself with video games. I can't think of a single time you haven't been there for me, and I wanna do the same for you."

Jeremy nodded, wiping away a tear he had clearly been trying to hold back before giving Michael a quick hug. "Thanks dude," he mumbled.

Once the two got to school, things seemed to go as normal, Jeremy still seeming pretty down about things but his constant joking with Michael seemed to help.

The two entered the cafeteria, laughing about some stupid joke to do with a retro video game, before Michael noticed something. Rich had just walked past, talking to Jake. Michael couldn't figure out what had made Rich catch his eye, until it hit him. He gasped, and immediately turned to Jeremy.

"Dude, do you see the hoodie Rich is wearing?" He asked, surprise in his voice.

"Yeah? It looks normal," Jeremy said with a shrug.

"It looks exactly like the one I left out for whoever was on the swing. It's the same size too, I think. It looks huge on him," Michael mumbled, trying not to stare.

"I'm sure it's not the same one, the hoodie looks pretty generic," Jeremy pointed out, shrugging.

"I guess... it still seems weird though," He mused. "I've never seen him wear that before."

"I'm sure it's nothing," Jeremy replied, noticing that it seemed to be stressing Michael out slightly.

Michael nodded, trying to forget about it, distracting himself in some dumb conversation about whatever new game update was happening, trying to cheer up Jeremy.

The whole day had seemed so uneventful at the beginning, but now, as much as it did just look like any old hoodie, he felt like he knew. He tried to ignore it, to push away the thoughts. He'd never spoken to Rich that much, but he always remembered this one month about a year ago, when everything in Michael's life had started spiralling, where Rich had started to bully him constantly, to call him a fa*g for hugging Jeremy, to take every opportunity to insult him, with almost every comment being of a hom*ophobic nature, despite the fact that Rich knew nothing about him.

Then one day, it had just stopped. Absolutely nothing was said to him by Rich. He did't seem to notice Michael whatsoever, aside from a few glances where Michael could physically see the pain in his eyes. He felt like he shouldn't have, and he'd never mentioned anything to Rich about it, but he wanted to forgive him.

There seemed to be something on a deeper level to the way Rich acted, that wasn't just surface level using 'gay' as an insult. There was something more internal, more painful about those words, and Michael felt like it wasn't personal towards him, he'd just been an unlucky random target.

Michael was snapped out of his thoughts when the bell rang. Great, gym class, his favourite. He had special permission from the teachers to get changed in an individual cubicle, but he still hated how exposed he felt from being forced to do sports.

Michael took slightly longer to get changed than he normally did, making sure the bandage around his arm was covered. When he walked out, the changing room was empty. He glanced around and saw the hoodie that looked just like one of his, almost directly in front of him.

Almost every item of clothing he owned had his own name in, from living in group foster homes where belongings would often get mixed up. He began to look for the label in the hoodie, his heart skipping a beat when he saw it. His name was printed in faded black writing over the white label, in his own messy handwriting.

He'd been right this whole time, but he was't sure what to think of it. He wanted to help Rich, but he didn't really know how. Hiding away with long sleeves made more sense now, he'd been covered in bruises every time he'd showed up in the park. Michael didn't know how they got there, not wanting to make assumptions about someone else. After all, people had made enough assumptions about him over time.

The fact that it was Rich on the swing stuck in his thoughts for almost the entire day, with Vivian (who had been able to leave work early) noticing something being off almost instantly.

"What's up, Michael?" She asked, seeing him lost in thought. "Everything okay?"

"Yeah, it's just... you know that person on the swing who I left a hoodie out for?" He asked, with Vivian nodding. "I know who it is, and it's someone I've known for years."

Vivian looked slightly surprised. "So, are you gonna talk to them."

"Maybe? I don't know. He used to bully me, that's all. I want to forgive him because I don't feel like it's his fault but I don't have enough information, Rich clearly has something else going on."

"Rich?" She asked, recognising the name but not showing it.

"Yeah, Richard Goranski," Michael replied, not noticing his foster mother's eyes widen for a split second.

"Maybe you should try and talk to him, love. Forgiveness is a great quality."

He nodded. "Maybe I should." He mumbled. "Ok, I'm gonna go up to my room now. I have work to do," He added on. "Bye, Vivian," he said the last part with a smile, causing Vivian to smile back.

He sat in his room, watching out the window for a while before deciding something. He was going to go out and wait on the swing for Rich.

Chapter 8: Noise

Chapter Text

The rustling of the trees.

The creaking of the gate.

The light crunching of autumn leaves under apprehensive feet.

Life was so incredibly loud.

Michael didn't understand how some people with perfect hearing couldn't find it overwhelming. He did a lot of the time. Every single tiny thing he encountered made noise, and he hated it. How could he focus on his own thoughts when he was constantly struggling to comprehend everything else around him? It was even worse when there were so many visual stimuli. At least there wasn't a lot to look at in the park. There was just a simple pattern of cars going past, adding more to the noise that surrounded him.

He couldn't help but be reminded of an incident that had happened when he was younger. His school had decided to take some students to Disneyworld. His biological parents had shelled out so much money for him to go. Most of the trip had been okay, with him and Jeremy sticking together the whole time as awkward twelve year olds with no other friends. One evening, they'd decided to stay out and watch the fireworks. Michael and Jeremy were stood behind a tree, meaning they couldn't see what was going on properly, the leaves overlapping and distorting their vision. Then the music had started. It was deafeningly loud, so loud that it was mostly unintelligible, and the excited chatter and squeals from the other children around them didn't make it any better.

Michael wasn't able to put anything he was experiencing together. The fireworks were so loud and bright, along with the moving images covering the castle, obscured by the tree. There were so many sounds around him, the songs and the talking and the crashes, and he just couldn't handle it. He felt clawing at his chest, struggling to breathe as tears ran down his face. Jeremy hadn't noticed, loudly singing along. Michael was sobbing through it all, unable to be heard over everything. Once everything had stopped and they were walking back to their rooms, people noticed. It took him years to get rid of that rumour that he was scared of fireworks. He just got overwhelmed easily. That was the first time he'd really noticed how much he struggled with sound.

He tried not to let himself get overwhelmed sat in the park, distracting himself. He forgot his headphones, which he felt stupid for doing as they helped block everything out, so he was simply lost in his own thoughts. It felt so strange to be sat on that swing again, after so many years. It was a strange lost sense of nostalgia.

Memories floated through his mind; clouds of sadness in a sunny sky. Every happy memory had been tainted, and he didn't think there was anything he could do about it. He couldn't think of anything else to distract himself with. He didn't even have his phone.

"Hello?" he heard a quiet, familiar voice ask. He looked up to see Rich looking down at him. "Michael?" he asked, clearly surprised.

"Oh, uh, hey," he mumbled, wondering why he had to be so awkward. "I was just, uh, here to say that that's my hoodie." He stood up, noticeably taller than Rich.

Rich immediately responded by taking it off and holding it out to him. "Do you want it back?" He asked, with Michael noticing a sense of sadness in his eyes. This moment led to Michael being able to see Rich's arms up close, giving him a better sense of how bad the injuries really were. The bruises had faded to a sickly yellow-green colour, and there were healing scratches amongst them. Michael tried not to stare, quickly shaking his head.

"No, you can keep it. I was just gonna say that if you need help with anything, like if you ever need anything I can try to help," He explained nervously.

"Why?" Rich asked, eyeing him suspiciously. "No offence, but I've been nothing but a dick to you."

Michael shrugged. "I felt bad for you. I wanted to help."

"Why should you?" Rich replied, "No offence, but I don't need your pity." He seemed to hiss the last word, but Michael saw a pained look in his eyes.

"If you want, I can help you," He reiterated. "And keep the hoodie."

Rich reluctantly pulled the hoodie back on. "Why are you being so nice to me?"

"Because I know how it feels to need help. We don't have to be friends or anything, but if you need anything I can help you." He said, leaning against a fence as Rich took his normal seat on the swing.

"What do you want out of it?" The shorter boy interrogated, clearly not believing what he was hearing.

"Nothing. This isn't conditional, or anything like that. This is just me looking out for someone who might want help," He assured.

Rich rolled his eyes, which were a deep chocolate brown, contrasting his pale, freckled skin. The space surrounding his eyes was irritated, either from tears or drugs. Michael didn't care which, he just saw a person who needed someone. Rich's appearance was filled with harsh contrasts, dark and light colours, soft eyes and a harsh face, with a sharp jawline. He furrowed his brows, their dark colour contrasting his bleach blonde hair, with it's striking red stripe. "What makes you think I need your help?" He argued.

The emphasis on the word 'your' hurt Michael slightly, but he decided to continue being persuasive with his support. "That's my house, directly opposite here. See that window?" He asked, pointing towards the second floor window. Rich nodded. "My bedroom. I've seen you here more than once. You're here because it's better than any other option, I think. I don't want to make assumptions, but it seems likely that that's the case."

As Michael spoke, Rich seemed to understand. As much as he tried to hold it back, his eyes filled with tears. This didn't seem like some form of blackmail, or some way of getting him to do something. This was someone who was genuinely concerned. "Why are you so nice to me?" Rich faltered, his voice cracking at the end of his sentence. He refused to cry. He wouldn't allow it.

"Because I've been through sh*t, and I know I wouldn't have managed without someone looking out for me. I vowed to do the same for someone else when they needed it, and I think you do," He explained, trying not to react to Rich's emotion. He wasn't good with understanding people's emotions. "Do you want me to help you with anything?" Rich was still for a moment, before shaking his head.

"I don't deserve it," He replied, wiping away a tear as soon as it fell. "I was such an asshole to you."

"Everyone deserves it when they need it. Anyway, that was ages ago. Don't worry about it now," Michael emphasised. "Rich, do you want my help?"

Rich hesitated for a few second, before nodding slightly. "You seem nice."

Michael's mouth twitched into a slight smile at that comment. "Thank you. If you need something, you know where I live."

Rich nodded. "Can I-" He stopped and thought for a second. "Can I have a hug?"

Michael nodded, taking a step towards him. Rich stood up and wrapped his arms around the taller boy, clearly feeling awkward about it, but immediately being comforted by the warmth of Michael's arms. They stayed like that for barely a few seconds, before Rich pulled away. Michael audibly heard his stomach rumble.

"Sorry, I didn't have lunch today," Rich apologised.

"It's okay, do you normally have lunch?" Michael asked, realising he'd never seen Rich eating in the cafeteria. Rich shook his head.

"We never have anything at home, and I never have any money for it," He admitted.

"I can help with that," Michael immediately told him. Rich shook his head straight away, looking slightly nervous.

"You don't have to," He pleaded, seeming embarrassed to have asked for help.

"Don't worry about it. Seriously. I promise, it's nothing," Michael assured him.

"Thank you so much. I'm sorry about last year," Rich mumbled, feeling guilty about making fun of someone who had just shown him nothing but kindness.

"Don't mention it. We all make mistakes," Michael told him. "Are you okay?"

Rich nodded. "Yeah, I just like coming here to escape my thoughts when I can."

Michael gave him a small smile. "That's good. I'm sorry, but I think I have to go now. My foster parents normally make dinner about now. If you need anything then just knock."

"Okay. Thank you," Rich replied, feeling much better than he had when he'd arrived. He sighed to himself watching Michael walk into his house. He wished he had somewhere like that, where he actually felt wanted, instead of feeling useless and alone. Well, he wasn't completely alone any more. He had help.

Chapter 9: Bitter

Notes:

Pretty much just a filler chapter, sorry :(

Chapter Text

It brought Michael a sense of comfort to know how, even if it was just by the tiniest amount, he made somebody feel better. Rich definitely didn't seem as bad as some of the people he was friends with. He just seemed damaged. Michael could make a guess why, but he knew he might be wrong. It wasn't his place to say what had or hadn't happened to anyone else. All he could do was look out for someone.

He kept his eye out for the red strip of hair, Rich's most noticeable feature among the crowd of students. Eventually, after glancing around, he spotted him alone, and walked towards him. As soon as he tapped Rich on the shoulder, he saw him flinch. It wasn't just a small reaction either, he completely seemed to jump away.

"Sorry, I didn't mean to scare you," Michael mumbled, rummaging through his bag. He grabbed a small lunch, handing it over to Rich. "Here, it's not much but it should be okay," He told him.

"Oh, uh, thank you," Rich replied, sounding surprised. "You really didn't have to."

"I told you I would, though, and I'm gonna stick by that," Michael said, his words genuine.

A grin tugged at the sides of Rich's mouth, as he quickly looked up, making eye contact with Michael for a split second. "Thanks man," he mumbled.

"No problem," He replied, smiling back. Before Rich could say anything else, Michael had left, walking through the hallway with his head down.

Rich felt slightly better throughout the day than he normally would have, the very idea of someone actually wanting to help him making him feel, well, normal for once. Whenever he passed Michael in the hallway, they'd give each other a quick smile. He wished he could talk to his friends about what was happening, but none of them knew the tiniest thing about him. It was all lies he'd made up to sound like a better, more interesting person than he was.

Jeremy saw Michael's small smiles and looked at him, confused. "Why are you so friendly with Rich all of a sudden? Didn't he used to treat you like living garbage?"

Michael sighed, "I know it seems weird, but I was right. It was him I saw on the swing outside my house, and it was him wearing my hoodie. I sat in the park yesterday and actually spoke to him, and he seems okay."

"Wait, so even though he made you feel like sh*t for a month, you still helped him?" Jeremy asked, confused.

Michael nodded. "I never felt like he meant what he said. He just seemed so distant and hurt."

Jeremy nodded. "Sometimes I wish I was as forgiving as you are," he mumbled. "Still weird to see you and Rich getting along though," he joked.

Michael nodded, before something else came into his mind. "How are you doing, with the whole Christine situation?" He asked.

Jeremy sighed. "I guess I'm just gonna have to get over it. It sucks, because I like her so much."

"You'll find someone else," Michael assured him, "You'll get over her."

Jeremy gave him a small, weak smile. "Can we change the subject?" He asked with a sigh.

He nodded. "Sorry," he mumbled. He'd always had a habit of apologising too much, even when he didn't need to. He had an ability to convince himself that everything that went wrong was his own fault, even if that was far from the case. He always felt so awkward saying it, but it seemed like a reflex.

Maybe one day he'd count every time he said it. Every time he apologised to a teacher for not doing something perfectly, or to someone in the hall who'd bumped into him, or to a friend for not explaining something properly. It was an instant reaction.

Through a messy day of more apologies and mistakes, he found comfort in the smile he kept seeing. He'd got that smile out of somebody who he rarely saw being happy. It was reassuring to him. He always felt like a burden, and something as small as a tiny action for someone who was struggling had taken away a little bit of that fear. He wasn't completely useless.

Rich still seemed to become more panicked as the day went on, constantly checking the time on his phone. Michael couldn't figure out why, sighing to himself as he watched Rich from the back of the class. He noticed how Rich had started to shake when everyone was packing away, flinching as the bell rang.

Jake looked over at Rich, asking him something Michael wasn't able to hear. Rich's expression seemed to completely change in that moment. His look of anxiety seemed to be replaced by a wide, happy smile, his shaking stopping as he left the room with Jake.

Michael pulled his eyes away when Jeremy tapped him on the shoulder. "Hey, dude, you zoned out again," he told him.

Michael sighed, standing up. "Sorry," he mumbled softly. "I'm just... I'm just tired," he explained, grabbing his bag and walking out the classroom.

Jeremy nodded, understanding. "You'll feel better soon. Your moms are lovely," he said with a smile.

"Don't call them my moms," he said bitterly. "I don't have a mom. The real one didn't want me," he growled.

Jeremy turned his head sharply, not used to Michael snapping at him. "Well, at least someone wants you to have a mom! It's been over a year since mom left and dad's only just dating again!" He snapped, starting to walk away.

Michael immediately felt guilty as he realised how little he asked about how things were in Jeremy's family. He caught up to Jeremy, tapping on his shoulder.

Jeremy sighed. He knew Michael hadn't meant to hurt him, but he couldn't help but be annoyed. "What?" He sighed.

"Do you wanna call later? Maybe... talk about it?" He whispered.

Jeremy froze, before giving Michael a small nod. "I just didn't want to be the annoying one who brought it up. It happened when all that stuff was happening with you, so I didn't wanna get in the way when you were struggling so much."

The rest of the walk back was silent, in a way that made Michael's heart race slightly. He felt bad for snapping at Jeremy when he was just trying to be nice. He wanted to talk, but knew Jeremy would prefer serious conversations over the phone so Michael couldn't see him cry. After an incident where Chloe Valentine (that bitch...) had got her whole group of friends (excluding Rich and Jake, for reasons they still didn't understand) to laugh at Jeremy for showing emotions, he hated being vulnerable in front of people.

As soon as they both got home, Michael felt his phone ring, seeing Jeremy's caller ID at the top of the screen. He answered.

"Hey, Jer, wanna talk?" He asked softly.

Michael heard a sigh and a small sniff through the speaker. "Just, let me vent for a bit. She hates me. She's disappointed in me. She promised she'd stay in touch but there wasn't a single call, letter, or even a text. Remember when I seemed so sad on my birthday? She said she'd visit, but the last text I got from here was an apology. She said she was busy. She didn't even say what she was busy with, but whatever it was it was more important than her own son." He took a deep breath, contemplating if he should tell Michael something. "Wanna know why I think she hates me?" He asked.

"If you want to tell me, you can tell me anything," Michael told him.

"She found out I'm bi," he mumbled, struggling through the words. He'd never told anyone before, his mom had found out by stalking his notes on his phone.

Michael was surprised. Not by Jeremy being bi, but at the fact that he didn't know. "Dude, you don't have to be nervous to tell me that. You know that."

Jeremy sighed. "Yeah... it's just a lot to tell someone when I've never said those words before."

"I understand. I'm proud of you," he stated, immediately hearing a shift in Jeremy's tone.

"Thanks, Michael, it genuinely... it means a lot," he breathed, relieved to hear him say that.

Michael smiled to himself as he continued to chat to Jeremy, not noticing that for the first time in over three days, Rich wasn't there on the swing.

Chapter 10: Wallet

Chapter Text

The next week or seemed to go by without incident. Rich hadn't returned to his place on the swing since the day Michael had spoken to him, which made Michael less worried about him. That didn't stop Michael giving him food every single day, though, even paying for some of it out of his own wallet, with money his foster moms had given him. Also, Jeremy was clearly feeling much better after telling Michael something he'd kept hidden for so long. He'd promised himself he'd be more open, buying himself a bi flag pin badge to wear, smiling confidently as he walked around. A few people asked him about it, but for some reason Michael had no idea how to explain, not a single one of the popular students even slightly made fun of him. Jeremy, however, barely seemed phased by it at all, shrugging it off. "I guess they're nicer than they seem," he replied with a smile, a certain look in his eyes that Michael struggled to recognise.

"I'm proud of you, bro," Michael told him, happy that Jeremy seemed so much more like himself.

"Thanks, again, for the fifteenth time today," he joked, leaning against his locker and laughing. "It's no big deal."

"It is! You're so much happier now and it's great!" he insisted.

He rolled his eyes, before they flickered off to the side for a split second.

Michael looked to see what Jeremy had looked at, but saw no one there apart from Jake Dillinger, talking to Chloe Valentine who seemed to be trying to flirt. Jake was looking visibly frustrated at her, seeming to want her to leave. Michael just brushed it off, Jeremy might have just thought he saw something he didn't.

"I hate Chloe," Jeremy whispered. "She pisses me off."

"She's a dick," Michael agreed, nodding.

Jeremy sighed and turned back around, grabbing a folder out of his locker. "Algebra, the most exciting class," he said sarcastically. "It's hell. Miss Warner absolutely hates me, too."

"Dude, she hates everyone, you're not alone," he joked.

"You make a fair point there," Jeremy replied, smiling. "Also, I won't be able to walk home with you," he told Michael. "Rehearsal, you know?"

"Oh, you're still going?" he asked. "Isn't it awkward?"

"It's nothing. We both got over it quickly," Jeremy defended, starting to walk to class, giving Michael a quick wave.

Michael had a free period, walking over to the library and sitting down, trying to get some homework done but unable to focus. It just didn't make sense. How had Jeremy gone from being completely obsessed with Christine to seeming absolutely okay so quickly? Of course he was happy that Jeremy seemed to be doing so well, but something wasn't adding up. Jeremy wasn't the type to forget that quickly. He'd known Jeremy for twelve years, and he knew for a fact that Jeremy always pined like a bitch for anyone he thought was slightly attractive. He tried to brush it off, but couldn't shake the feeling that Jeremy was hiding something. He was snapped out of his thoughts by a familiar voice.

"Uh, hey," Rich said softly, stood awkwardly next to the table Michael was sitting at. "This might be a lot to ask, and you're already doing way more than I could ask for, but I was wondering if maybe you could explain to me some things I don't really understand?" he said, holding up a math worksheet. "It's cool if not, I just know you're good at it and I'm already failing pretty badly," he told Michael.

"Sure, sit down," Michael said, giving him a small smile. He wasn't quite sure why, but he liked talking to Rich. He seemed really down to Earth when he was on his own. Quiet, and very apologetic, and definitely with a soft side.

Rich breathed a sigh of relief, sitting next to him. "Thanks, man, I appreciate it."

"No problem," he replied. "What are you struggling with?"

"Just about everything?" Rich admitted sheepishly. "Sorry, I'm kinda dumb."

"I'm sure you're not," Michael replied. "At least, it seems that way to me."

He shrugged, starting to look over the questions as Michael explained them to him, going through it slow enough for him to understand, making sure he knew exactly what Michael was talking about.

"Thank you so much," Rich replied softly, starting to work out and quickly scribble down the answers. "I normally do work at Jake's but he's been busy after school the last couple of days. Some new girl he's hooking up with, probably," he joked.

Michael laughed slightly. "Who is it this time?"

"He won't tell anyone. Weird, because he normally brags about it to me as soon as he can," Rich replied with a shrug. "How do you do this one?" He asked.

"It's a factorial, you multiply it," Michael replied.

Rich smiled slightly. "Thanks, you're so smart," he told him.

Chapter 11: History

Notes:

(TW: Description of abuse/self harm injuries)

Chapter Text

Michael kept glancing at his phone, wondering why Jeremy had seen the message but didn't reply. Had he brought it up in a bad way or something? He tried to distract himself, finding himself staring out the window often, his mind wandering. He was happy for Jeremy. Of course he was, but there was something else too. He'd only had Jeremy for a long time, so the idea of seeing him less often made him slightly jealous. He quickly tried to brush it off. Jeremy was the best friend he could have asked for, and he was sure they'd still spend a lot of time together. A thought wandered into his mind, making him smile slightly. If Jeremy was spending so much time with Jake, and Jake was Rich's best friend, that meant Michael and Rich would be able to talk to each other more. They weren't really friends, but Michael always liked to know if there was anything he could do to help.

He was distracted from his thoughts by his phone screen lighting up. It had been just over two hours since Michael sent the text, and Jeremy had finally replied. He looked over nervously, wondering if Jeremy would be annoyed, breathing a sigh of relief when he saw:

J: i am having fun, trust me ;)

He decided to send a reply, smiling down at his phone.

M: ok thot, i'm proud of you

J: thanks lmao, i'm just happy you're not annoyed because Jake lowkey used to bully us

M: i trust you though. you supported me helping out someone who used to bully me, so i'll support you dating someone who used to be a dick to you, as long as he's treating you right now (which, from what i overheard he is)

J: hasgdjasgfhjadsgfj how much did you hear ?!!

M: i'll let you get back to your dick appointment now

J: MICHAEL HOW MUCH DID YOU HEAR

M: not much, just your very soft UwU voice while talking to him

J: what are you talking about? i don't do that

M: you DEFINITELY do lmao, i didn't even recognise it as your voice at first

J: i hate you.

M: have fun bitch <3 call me later and tell me the gossip

J: Will do k thx bye

Michael laughed to himself, genuinely curious as to how Jeremy had ended up with Jake. So many girls obsessed over Jake, and Michael had to admit that he and Jeremy definitely weren't the most popular of students. He'd never even seen Jake and Jeremy talk, so it was weird. He opened his laptop and started to do some work for some random history project he had. He hated history, but at least he was good at it. He glanced up out the window again and froze. Rich was back, wearing Michael's dark blue hoodie.

Without even thinking about it, Michael shot up, walking downstairs. He threw open the door, glancing at the street before walking over to the playground, going in.

Rich looked slightly worried when he saw Michael, but there was something else there too that Michael couldn't figure out. "Are you okay?" he asked, seeing Rich's tear stained face.

Rich shrugged, not looking up at him. "I'm fine, just haven't had a great evening."

"Do you want to talk about it?" he offered, sitting in the swing next to him.

Rich hesitated. "Not right now," he replied, barely a whisper.

Michael silently pulled a tissue out of his pocket, passing it to Rich, who thanked him softly, drying his face. They sat in silence for a couple of minutes. Michael felt awkward, but Rich seemed comforted by his presence, calming down a bit.

"Do you wanna come inside?" Michael blurted out. "My house. You can come over to my house," he told him, cringing at his own awkwardness.

Rich shook his head. "I wouldn't wanna feel like I'm getting in the way."

"You wouldn't be. We could chill, do homework together or play video games or something?" Michael offered.

"You sure? Again, I really wouldn't want to feel like I'm just butting in or something," Rich insisted.

"It's okay. My foster moms are happy with me inviting anyone over," Michael persuaded. "Come on, I'll try to make it fun."

Rich shrugged and stood up. "If you're sure, then okay, let's go," he said.

Michael stood up, walking out the playground and towards his house, Rich right behind him. He walked back in, heading upstairs.

Rich's head flicked around as he saw a familiar face, but he couldn't place where he'd seen her before. One of Michael's foster moms felt extremely familiar to him, but he wasn't able to put a name to her face.

She clearly recognised him too, knowing exactly where she'd seen him. If emergency wards had regulars, Rich counted as one of them, in a way that made her sadder every time it happened. She saw his tear stained red face and decided now wasn't the best time to talk to him, just letting him go up to Michael's room, sitting down and hiding her face in her hands. She felt so bad for him. He was covered head to toe in bruises, and his thighs were always littered with cuts and scars. Legally she wasn't able to intervene, as the cause of his injuries was never stated, but she could only assume.

Michael sat down on his bed, gesturing for Rich to sit next to him. "Any work you need to do?" he asked.

"Yeah, just some dumb history project," Rich replied, rolling his eyes.

"Does Mr Carter teach you?" Michael asked.

Rich nodded. "You too?"

Michael nodded, an annoyed look on his face. "He always has the most boring work."

"Tell me about it!" Rich replied, laughing slightly.

They continued to chat, working on their projects together as the clock ticked, Rich clearly cheering up quite a lot, before picking up his phone as it rang.

"Hey Jake," He said casually. "How are things going with whatever girl you're hooking up with now?"

Michael laughed behind his hand, realising Rich had no idea.

"See, that's the thing," Jake replied through the phone. "Not a girl this time. You're cool with that, right?"

"Yeah, of course I am, dude, now I just need to know who it is!" Rich said, smiling wide. What Jake had said had clearly lifted Rich's mood. "Spill the tea, who are they?"

"Promise you won't judge?" Jake asked.

Rich was smiling wide, listening intently. "Of course I won't."

"Okay, so he's nothing like who I'd normally be with, and I love it. He's so cute and dorky," Jake replied, his tone softer than normal, clearly affectionate. "It's Jeremy."

"Jeremy Heere?" Rich replied, glancing over at Michael, knowing Jeremy was his best friend, assuming Michael didn't know.

Jake sighed. "Yeah, you said you wouldn't judge though," He reminded Rich.

"I'm not judging, I'm just surprised!" He defended. "I should have noticed you eyeing him up, though. I'm happy for you, dude."

"Thanks, Rich," Jake replied. "I'm gonna go now, pretty sure Jere wants me to cuddle with him," he whispered, clear happiness in his voice, before hanging up.

Rich immediately turned to Michael with a look of shock. "JEREMY AND JAKE ARE TOGETHER!" he burst, clearly surprised by it.

"I know, I heard them talking at school, I was just as surprised as you are," he told Rich. "I guess this means we're gonna be seeing more of each other, right? You're stuck with me even more now."

Rich's freckled face turned slightly pink, looking back at his cheap, slow laptop with the intention that Michael wouldn't notice his blush. "I guess so," he replied, finishing up the paragraph he was writing, before checking his watch, his eyes widening. "sh*t, gotta go," he panicked, shoving his things back into his bag.

Michael saw how dark it was outside, and stood up. "I'll walk you home," he told Rich.

"You'll really do that?" Rich asked, smiling. "I hate walking alone in the dark."

Michael nodded, smiling. "Of course, I said I'd be there to help you if you needed it."

Rich started to head downstairs, leading Michael through the dark streets. "It's only a ten minute walk away," he told Michael. "It's why I love that playground so much. Nostalgia."

"Me too," Michael replied. "Though part of me kind of hates it now."

"Why?" Rich asked, curious. "It's okay if you don't wanna say, if it's something personal."

"I guess I just miss it," he half-lied, following Rich, glancing around at the dark streets.

Rich continued to lead the way for a bit, Michael easily remembering the path. It was mostly just straight lines, not too hard to remember. He walked Michael towards a white house, that clearly wasn't being looked after any more. The white paint over the walls had faded and peeled, and all the plants in front of the house had died, over tangled weeds covering everything. There was a busted water pipe that was dripping down the side of the house, and a badly patched up hole in the roof. The house had clearly once been nice, but it was way past that now.

"Thanks for walking with me," Rich said, smiling. "I appreciate it."

Michael shrugged it off as no big deal, watching Rich walk inside. He started to walk back home, remembering the path quite well.

After all, it was only a ten minute walk.

A few hours later, Michael staggered up to his front door.

Chapter 12: Anger

Chapter Text

The next day, students trailed into school like they normally did, tired faces looking around for their friends, or at least someone they could stand to talk to this early in the morning.

Rich leaned against his locker, glancing around himself and frowning, before checking his watch. Michael had normally arrived by now, giving him lunch and checking up on him to make sure he was okay, but he wasn't here.

'That's so entitled,' he thought to himself. 'He doesn't need to give you food or check on you. He doesn't need to be there for you at all, he's probably just running late anyway.'

Rich glanced across the hallway, seeing Jake stood at his locker, his arm around Jeremy. He guessed Jake had told Jenna, and Jenna had told everyone, because nobody seemed surprised by it. He walked over, keeping his head down. "Hey, guys, have you seen Michael?" He asked.

Jeremy was leaning on Jake's shoulder, a visible hickey on his pale skin. He shook his head. "No, I didn't walk with him today. I ended up staying over yesterday," he explained. "Michael isn't waiting for me, though. I messaged him saying I'd be going to school with Jake, and he liked the message, so he knows."

Rich nodded, still seeming slightly nervous.

"Why do you care anyway?" Jake asked. "You've been talking to him so much recently, what started it?" He had no idea about how Rich was treated and why there was such a consistent pattern with his behaviour and how much he covered up. He got worried sometimes, but Rich was secretive, and he didn't want to push him away.

"Michael's helping him," Jeremy mumbled, his arms around Jake's waist, his face hidden in his shoulder. "Bringing him lunch and stuff."

Jake tilted his head, confused. "What do you mean?" he asked, looking directly at Rich.

Rich started to get annoyed at how casually Jeremy had said that. "None of your business," he spat, glaring. It might not seem like a big deal to Jeremy, but to Rich, being decently popular, having to get help from a quiet kid was definitely something he was trying to hide. It's not that he didn't like Michael, of course he did. They were, maybe, if Rich was lucky, kind of... friends? But it still didn't matter. People didn't need to know he needed help.

Jake looked down at Rich, wrapping his arm tighter around Jeremy. "Dude, calm down, it's okay. Just tell me what he means."

Jeremy was hiding his face, realising he'd messed up.

"No! You don't need to know sh*t about me!" He snapped, stepping back. "You've got all your f*cking money, isn't it just rubbing it in when you act like you have NO IDEA why I could POSSIBLY need someone to bring me things?!" He was fully angry now. The way he lived definitely had a way of making him less able to control his emotions, defensive and angry.

"You could have just asked me for help?" Jake replied with a shrug.

"No, Jake, no I f*cking couldn't. You've had all that sh*t to deal with to do with your parents, and what happened with them, and as if I was gonna get in the way when all that was happening!" He replied. He glared around at all the people staring at them yelling, flipping them off. "Take a picture, it'll last longer!" He replied. Cliche, but he wasn't really thinking very well.

"Rich, calm down," Jeremy said, trying to stay calm.

"I barely even KNOW you, why should I do what you say?!" He snapped, stepping forward.

"You bullied me for long enough!" Jeremy replied, hurt.

Rich flinched, remembering it. He regretted it, but he was in such a bad place when it had happened.

Jake kept his arm around Jeremy, holding him close, feeling protective.

"So did Jake, and now you're f*cking him!" Rich snapped, raising his voice even more.

Jake rolled his eyes. "You're lucky Michael even wants to be seen with you, Rich," he growled. He'd never really been spoken to like this before.

"Can I tell you the truth, Rich?" Jeremy snapped, pissed off. "Michael doesn't actually want to be near you," He lied, knowing Michael was actually growing quite fond of Rich. "He's treating you like a charity case. He always wants to help everyone. You're not special to him."

Rich felt his eyes well up with tears. "That's not true," he replied weakly, looking at Jake for some kind of defence.

Jake pulled his phone out of his pocket and started scrolling.

Jeremy nodded and shrugged.

"THAT'S NOT TRUE!" Rich yelled, grabbing Jeremy and pulling him out of Jake's grip. Yes, Rich was thin from not eating, but he was a lot tougher than people would think, and Jeremy was definitely on the skinnier side, so he was easy to drag around. He went to slam Jeremy against the wall, but heard no impact. Jake had caught him.

Jake hadn't had any time to put his phone away, so had dropped it on the hard floor, not caring about any damage, putting all his thought into making sure Jeremy wasn't hurt. He glared up at Rich. "Have fun," he hissed as a teacher walked over. Jake knew Rich was on his final warning, being told any more violent outbursts would lead to being suspended.

Rich started to panic as the teacher grabbed his wrist, dragging him to the office.

"Sit," the teacher hissed, pointing at a chair.

Rich knew there was no point disobeying, tears rolling down his cheeks as he sat down. "Okay," he whispered weakly.

"I don't know why YOU'RE crying," she said sarcastically. "You brought this on yourself. What the hell happened, Richard? We've talked about this!"

Rich looked down, stifling his sobs. He didn't want to talk or make excuses. Jake, his only close friend, hated him, and he guessed Michael would too, because of Michael and Jeremy being such close friends. This really was his own fault. He didn't wipe away any tears, and he didn't even try to speak.

"Talk to me, Goranski," she demanded, holding up a clipboard. She had to make notes on both sides of the story, so she had to get him to talk before he left.

He shook his head, pulling his hood up.

"Nope, put that back down. If you don't tell me, I won't be able to know your side, and I'll have to go entirely off what Jeremy tells me, and I don't think that will work out well for you," she explained, sighing when Rich still didn't speak. "So you want me to take Jeremy's word for it entirely?"

He nodded slowly. Whatever Jeremy said, Rich would get what he deserved. He hated how he could never control his anger. He hated it so much. He always seemed calmer around Michael, for reasons he couldn't explain. Something about Michael's quiet, caring demeanour was nice to be around.

"Are you sure?" she asked, raising one eyebrow, shrugging when Rich nodded again. "If you insist," she said, opening a door to an empty classroom with nothing but one chair and a desk. "Wait. I'll hear what Mr Heere has to say, then we'll decide what we're doing with you."

Rich nodded, walking in and sitting down, sobbing and hiding his face in his hands once the door was shut. He was so screwed. He didn't have anyone, and he'd probably be suspended, and god f*cking knows what sort of trouble he'd get into from that.

He kept sobbing for a few minutes, before glancing up at the window to the room next to this one. Jake had his arm around Jeremy, his jaw clenched like it always was when he was angry.

Jeremy was crying, clearly shaken up, and Rich couldn't blame him for that.

After a couple of minutes of Jeremy talking, the teacher walked into the room Rich was in. "Follow me," she said coldly, leading him over to the front desk.

Not a good sign.

He hid his face in his hands.

"Look at me when I'm talking to you," she demanded, Rich nervously doing as he was told. "I'm sorry, but this is your third violent offence, and we're going to have to suspend you. Two days, then you'll be back. We'll send your work home to you. Your dad has been called, and he's on his way to pick you up."

Rich froze, before starting to sob loudly, heavy breaths being taken as he glanced around. "Can't I just walk home?" He pleaded.

She shook her head. "No," she said, stone cold, not phased by Rich's emotions. "And you won't help your case trying to manipulate me with some fake tears."

Rich was struggling to breathe, looking up to show genuine tears rolling down his face, his eyes red and puffy.

"Quit the theatrics," She told him, passing him a tissue. "Sit down, and just breathe."

Rich scrunched the tissue up in his hands, using it to frantically dry his face, not wanting his dad to see him like this.

The door swung open as an angry, dishevelled man walked in, grabbing Rich's wrist and squeezing, dragging him up. "Let's go," he snapped.

Rich glanced around to Jake, who was still comforting a crying Jeremy. "I'm sor-" he started, being interrupted by Jake.

"Shut it, Goranski, nobody cares," he growled, watching as Rich's dad dragged him off.

Rich couldn't stop crying, still struggling to breathe as he was forcefully dragged home. It's not like his dad could drive him back. The stench of beer on his breath told him that much.

Angry, silent minutes passed as they approached Rich's house, his dad shoving him inside. "Go. I don't want to see you," he snapped, pointing up the stairs.

Rich quickly nodded and rushed upstairs, curling up in his bed.

Not being at school had at least stopped him finding out that Michael didn't show up at all.

Chapter 13: Weak

Notes:

Tw: Abuse

Chapter Text

Rich sat in the corner of his bedroom floor, his arms wrapped around his knees, and his knees to his chest. He was still crying, but not so much any more. He felt numb. He glanced around, trying to think of something to distract himself with, his heart jumping slightly when he heard the front door open, then close again. He was now home alone. He should eat, Michael would want him to eat.

That is, if Michael cared. For all Rich knew, Jeremy was right. It wouldn't have surprised him if Michael didn't care. It hurt to think about, though. He was almost certain Jeremy was right. After all, Jeremy knew Michael best. Why shouldn't Rich believe him?

He sighed, standing up shakily, walking over to the mirror and staring at his own reflection. He looked nothing like how other people saw him. He wasn't strong. He wasn't tough or scary. He was scared. He was weak, and he was angry at where life had left him. He glared at himself in the reflection, lifting his fist, ready to shatter the glass, before he snapped to his senses.

"Nope, he'll f*cking kill me if I do that again," he whispered, taking a step back so he wouldn't be tempted. Rich's dad was abusive. Period. There was no other way to put it. His friends knew, Michael had probably guessed, but it was an unspoken rule that nobody talked about it to him. Michael wouldn't really care anyway. At least, that's what Rich thought. He just wanted someone he'd be able to turn to, but none of his friends were the supportive type, and he only had one family member he could trust aside from his dad, and she was always busy.

He quickly tried to think of something to do to distract himself, before remembering that the house was empty and rushing downstairs, looking through the fridge and the cupboards for something to eat. He eventually found some leftovers from something his dad had ordered, deciding to take the risk. If he was caught, god f*cking knows what would happen, but he needed to eat. He started to sneak back upstairs, flinching as he knocked an empty beer bottle over.

He bent down to pick it up, before taking a step back to examine his surroundings. He rarely ever actually looked at what his house looked like, preferring to keep his head down and speedwalk to his bedroom every time he got home. Comparing this to Jake's house, or to Michael's house, for the short time he'd visited, and it was like a completely different universe.

The scratchy, withered carpet was littered with open cans and bottles, and stained from spilled drinks. There were also a few faded bloodstains, and one patch from when his dad had punched him in the stomach after he ate, and he vomited on the carpet. He shuddered remembering how his dad had watched him scrubbing the floor, bombarding him with insults. He'd been beaten up so badly for that that he could barely walk the next day at school.

He sighed and saw the ashtray on the table, the open packet of cigarettes next to it. It was such a bad habit, but he couldn't help but grab one. "You're f*cking weak," he mumbled to himself, annoyed for giving in.

His dad wouldn't notice one missing, it's fine. He disappeared back upstairs, scoffing the food he'd grabbed as quickly as he could. He threw the empty takeout container in the trash, stuffing it under some sheets of paper so his dad wouldn't see it if he walked in. He opened the window, lighting the cigarette and holding it to his lips, breathing in the smoke, before coughing. He hadn't done this for a while, so he wasn't quite as used to it as he used to be.

He heard the front door open and felt his heart skip a beat. He listened very carefully to the heavy footsteps, before hearing an annoyed yell.

"Oh for f*ck'S sake!" His dad growled. "DICK!" He yelled, storming up the stairs. "DICK WHERE THE f*ck IS MY FOOD?!"

Rich quickly looked around for somewhere to stub out the cigarette, panicking and using his arm, flinching at the slight burn, before throwing it in the trash.

His dad threw his bedroom door open, walking up to Rich and grabbing his arm, squeezing so hard that there would undoubtedly be a bruise left there later. "WHERE THE f*ck IS MY FOOD?" He yelled in Rich's face.

"I don't know!" Rich replied, shielding his face with his arm.

He yanked Rich's hair so Rich was standing up, looking up at his face. He let go of Rich's hair, still keeping a tight grip on his wrist with his other hand, before slapping him. "WHERE THE f*ck IS IT?"

Rich bit back a cry of pain, his eyes stinging. "Thtop!" He replied, before a jolt of fear struck him through his body as his dad's expression grew even more angry.

"WHAT. DID. I. SAY. ABOUT. THAT. STUPID. VOICE." He growled. "Thtop! Thtop!" He mimicked, before letting go of Rich's wrist and pushing him backwards.

Rich stumbled back, not even trying to fight. He'd reached complete acceptance at this point, letting his dad do whatever he felt like. Nobody even cared, anyway. As he staggered back, his ankle hit the leg of his desk, causing him to fall over, letting out a quiet yelp as his head hit the floor.

He curled up in a ball so that his dad wouldn't be able to hit him as much, shaking. He felt a boot slam into his side, crying out in pain. He didn't hold back his pained sounds this time. He didn't care. He just pushed everyone away. Maybe, if he was lucky, his dad would kill him this time.

He didn't hear the front door open, only able to hear the insults from his dad and the blood rushing around his head, his heart pounding. His dad took the opportunity to drag him back up so he was almost standing, looking down at him. He was a lot taller than his son, something he loved from the feeling of power it gave him. He put Rich in a headlock, so tightly that he couldn't breathe.

Rich gasped for breath, looking up when he heard a scream. His dad immediately let go, seeing who it was. He took a step towards his daughter, Natalie, grabbing her by her collar. "Nobody knows what you saw, okay?" he growled. She nodded, panicked, before rushing over to Rich, who was kneeling on the ground, taking deep, heavy breaths.

"You're safe, okay?" she whispered, hearing his wheezing breaths. "Can you stand up?" She asked. He stood shakily, leaning against her, her arm around him for support. "Come on, let's go to my apartment. I'm not really meant to have anyone else around because it's so tiny and it's just meant to be for me, but as long as you don't get caught, you can stay, okay?"

Rich nodded, his breathing slowing down as she led him out the house and to her car, opening the passenger side door for him. He crawled in, his whole body weak and shaky. She got in the driver's side, before turning to Rich.

She waited for him to calm down slightly, before deciding to talk. "Are you okay?" she asked softly, sighing when Rich shook his head. She was eight years older than him, and extremely protective of him. When she'd moved out, she wanted to take him too, but the only apartment she could afford specified it was only for one person, and she'd be fined or kicked out if more than one person lived there. It was worth the risk now.

"Okay, so, if you're staying for a bit, you'll need some clothes. I have a friend who's about your size, he might let you borrow some things. sh*t, you don't have your school things," she mumbled.

"I won't need them until Monday," he whispered.

She looked confused. "Why not? It's only Wednesday." She asked.

"I... uh..." he stuttered, not sure what to say. "I was suspended," he admitted.

"What? What happened?" She asked.

"I'll tell you when we get to your place, okay?" He mumbled quietly.

She nodded, starting to drive. They drove in silence, Rich rocking back and forth very slightly from stress. He buried his face into Michael's hoodie, feeling comforted by it.

She pulled up to her apartment building about ten minutes later, leading Rich up to her tiny, one person apartment. She sat down on the couch, beckoning for him to sit next to her. "Talk to me," she told him, her arm around his shoulder and her tone soft.

"So, there's this guy at school who's been helping me out a lot, bringing me food and helping with homework, and things like that, and his best friend is now dating my best friend. I didn't see Michael, the guy helping me out, this morning, so I asked where he was, and then Michael's best friend Jeremy told Jake that Michael was helping me, and Jake asked me why I needed help, and I got really annoyed because I hate telling people what's wrong with me, and I kind of snapped at them both, then Jeremy told me Michael didn't actually care about me, and just wanted to treat me like a charity case... and I guess that made me really upset..." He explained, whispering, embarrassed by how dumb it sounded now.

Natalie sighed and put her head in her hands. "Rich, did you hurt someone again?" She whispered.

He looked down and nodded, wiping away a tear before she could see it.

"We've talked about this, Rich," she whispered. "I know you're struggling, but you can't do that."

He nodded. "I know... I'm a f*ck up."

She hugged him close. "You're not a f*ck up, you've just been through a lot, okay?"

He leaned against her, nodding. "They all hate me now."

"I'm sure they'll forgive you. I bet it was one of them who messaged me," she said, getting her phone out to show an anonymous account messaging her.

'You're Rich's sister, right? Please go and check on him. Jeremy said he saw his dad dragging him out of school, and he smelled like alcohol and Rich looked really scared of him. Make sure he's okay.'

Chapter 14: Sleep

Chapter Text

The weekend passed slowly, Rich doing all his school work on his terrible, laggy laptop. He was constantly stressed, and struggling to sleep. He'd insisted on taking the couch, despite Natalie's wishes for him to take the bed instead. He missed talking to people. He missed spending the day actually doing something.

He missed Michael.

He read that message in his head over and over. It couldn't have been anyone else, right? Maybe Jake, but he doubted that because of how pissed Jake seemed to be. Rich had sent messages over and over apologising to both Jake and Jeremy. He remembered how relieved he'd felt when Jeremy had replied, saying it was okay, and they'd both messed up. He hadn't mentioned anything about lying about what Michael thought, though, so Rich just had to assume it was true that Michael didn't care.

Jake, however, wasn't as easy to convince.

J: Apologise all you want, you still hurt Jere.

R: i'm sorry. i panicked. i didn't know what to do.

J: How about not try and f*cking assault my boyfriend?

R: i know, jake, i'm sorry. you don't have to forgive me, i just wanted to apologise.

J: Good thing I don't have to, because I don't forgive you. You're gonna have to say something more than just 'sorry'. Did you see how upset Jeremy was?

R: i know, i apologised to him too

J: I know. You're lucky he's forgiven you.

He sighed shakily as he read through the messages again, not sure what to do, still curled up in the thin blanket on his sister's couch. He buried his head in the pillow and tried to sleep, exhausted. He just couldn't get his brain to shut down. He started to let his mind wander. For some reason he couldn't understand he remembered when Michael had hugged him that one time. Michael hadn't hugged him again after that, but Rich still remembered how warm and safe he'd felt for those few seconds. He wanted to be able to fall asleep like that, Michael's arms around him.

Not in a gay way, of course. Just to make him feel more safe.

He smiled at the thought of it, drifting off into a light sleep.

When he woke up the next day, he groaned, realising it was Monday and he'd have to go back to school. He didn't think he had any of his stuff, and sighed thinking about how much trouble he'd be in for struggling to finish the work.

He opened his eyes, seeing his bag on the table, with a packed lunch and a note. He picked the note up and smiled slightly, reading over it.

'Grabbed your stuff when dad was out, have a nice day :) -Nat.'

He grabbed some of the clothes Natalie's friend had let him borrow, before picking up Michael's hoodie and putting that on too. Natalie had asked why the hoodie was so important to him, understanding how it made him feel safe when Rich had explained. She'd made sure to wash it so he could wear it when he went to school again.

He felt his heart jump slightly at a thought he had. He'd get to see Michael again today. I mean, it wasn't that important to him, you know? He had food, Michael didn't need to do anything for him, Rich just liked talking to Michael. They were kind of friends. He sighed, wondering if Michael would be mad at him for how he'd acted to Jeremy, holding onto the hope that Jeremy not being mad meant Michael wouldn't be.

He kept his head down as he walked the short distance to school, his sister's apartment being more close by than he'd realised. People were staring. Of course they were. He kept his head down as he heard whispers about him being insane, sighing as he knew he couldn't avoid them.

He leaned against his locker, looking around for those familiar headphones, checking his watch regularly. No sign of Michael. Nothing. He looked away quickly when he made eye contact with Jake, not expecting what he saw, which was Jeremy letting go of Jake's hand and running over, panicked.

"Have you spoken to Michael since..." he thought for a few seconds. "Wednesday? I think he was last at school on Tuesday."

Rich shook his head, getting worried. "Almost a week ago?" He asked. Jeremy nodded. "Last time I spoke to him was when you got sent home. I... knew he'd care so I sent him a message. Did he say anything to you?"

Rich shook his head. "I think he spoke to my sister, though. She got an anonymous message asking her to check up on me."

Jeremy nodded. "That would have been Michael. I knew he'd do something," he sighed, relieved.

"How did you know that? I thought you said he didn't really care about me," He replied bitterly.

Jeremy sighed, putting his head in his hands. "I lied to you," he mumbled. "He cares about you a lot, you know?" He told Rich.

Rich was taken aback slightly. "You sure?"

Jeremy nodded. "Yeah, Rich, I'm sorry. Jake'll come around, by the way. He's just... protective, you know?"

Rich nodded, holding out his hand for Jeremy to shake. "You lied to me, I tried to attack you," he joked, trying to lighten the mood. "We're even?"

Jeremy glanced back over at Jake, before looking back at Rich. "See you around, okay?" he responded, not shaking Rich's hand, walking back over to Jake and leaning against him, not looking over at Rich.

The day seemed to go by in a blur. Every teacher seemed mad at him, and for good reason too. He handed in the work he'd done, knowing he'd done badly, just trying to get through as much of the day as he could, still keeping his eye out in case of the very small chance he would see Michael.

When the bell rang to dismiss them, Rich found himself walking in the direction of the playground, nervously playing with his sleeves. He walked through, sitting down on the swing, looking up at the window.

Lights off, curtains drawn. He was worried about Michael. He knew to be worried, because Jeremy seemed worried, and he knew Michael best. He looked over to the front door, making the quick decision to go over and knock.

He wondered if he should really be doing this as he walked across the road, keeping his eyes firmly on the ground in front of him, lifting a shaky fist to knock on the door.

After a few seconds, the door swung open, showing an absolutely exhausted looking Vivian, her hair a mess and her face pale and plain. "Oh, Rich, hello," she said, surprised. After all, she'd only seen Rich visiting once before. "Come in, take your hoodie off and take a seat."

Rich did as he was told, shaking as he hung up the hoodie with the jackets, before walking through to the living room, shutting the door behind them both.

Vivian sat down with him on the couch, looking over his arms. "Yeah, exactly as I'd worried about," she whispered to herself, grabbing her first aid kit. She wasn't giving much information, really, just checking over him and patching up the worst of the injuries his dad had given him. "Sorry to just drag you in here. Michael said he was a bit worried about you, so I tried to find you but you weren't at the address listed in your medical records," she explained to him, her eyes dull and sad looking.

"How is Michael? Where is he?" Rich asked.

"He's not in a good place for visitors, Rich, I'm sorry," she whispered, making sure his arms were bandaged up tightly.

Rich sighed. "What happened?" he whispered. "He seemed okay through all of Tuesday."

Vivian shook her head. "Honey, I don't think that's our place to say. He'll tell you when he feels better."

Rich nodded, staying sat down as Vivian gave him a quick hug. "Thanks," he mumbled, looking up at her.

"It's okay. I'd love to invite you to stay, but we're trying to keep the house quiet and calm for Mikey's sake, right now. I'm sure you'll be able to talk to him soon," she explained. "You're with your sister right now, aren't you?" she asked. He nodded slowly. "Good. That's good. That's who I told Michael to message."

At that moment, Rich finally realised why he recognised her. "You... you saved my life..." he whispered.

Vivian gave him a soft, but forced smile. "Just part of the job, honey."

"And you cut the medical bills because my dad refused to pay..." He added on, before hugging her.

She hugged him back for a minute or so, before pulling away. "It's really nice seeing you feeling better, but I don't think you can stay, I'm sorry. I'm sure you'll be able to talk to him at some point soon, okay?" She mumbled, standing up and leading him to the door. Rich got even more worried at this point, but decided not to press further. Everyone seemed so stressed.

He walked out the door, picking up his hoodie as he left. "Thank you," he mumbled again, before pulling the hoodie on. He felt something in the pocket, pulling it out. It was a sheet of paper, roughly torn around the edges. He unfolded it and saw messy, scribbled handwriting.

'At the swings. Tomorrow. 11pm. See you there-M'

Chapter 15: Fluttery

Chapter Text

Rich couldn't sleep that night, thoughts racing through his head, relived Michael wanted to meet up again. He picked the note up, reading through once more, his fingers tracing the letters. He noticed every detail. The handwriting was a lot messier than Michael's usually was, but something about it made Rich know it was definitely him. The way he dotted the little 'i' in swings with a circle instead of a dot. The way none of the letters were really the same size. Something about it comforted him.

It was just a few words, really, not much to be interested by, but Rich was surprised that Michael had sent a note out to him first. He would have heard from Jeremy if Jeremy had heard from Michael. Jeremy said he would tell him if he found anything out.

It was just a note, though. Rich didn't see why he found it so interesting. He felt creepy about how much he seemed to want to be around Michael, and talk to him, and just have him there. He guessed his brain just went so long without anyone caring that it latched on to the first person who showed him any amount of support.

He folded the note up again, putting it back on the table, before lying down on the couch. He pulled the blanket around himself again, trying to sleep.

Still nothing.

In a last-ditch attempt to get some rest, he had an idea, picking up Michael's hoodie. He hugged it close, hiding his face in it. He didn't know why it always calmed him down, but it did. There was something about Michael that was... different, but he couldn't put his finger on it. Out of everyone he wanted to make smile, he wanted to make Michael smile the most. Out of everyone he wanted a hug from, he wanted to hug Michael the most. Out of everyone he wanted to talk to, he wanted to talk to Michael the most.

Sometimes, when he thought about Michael, he felt his heart beat a bit faster, and his stomach feel weird and fluttery. He didn't understand it, though, so he tried not to think about it too much.

He held the hoodie close to his face, hugging it tight, feeling that fluttering come back when he did it. He didn't understand that feeling, but he definitely liked it. He smiled to himself, playing with the hoodie strings, shutting his eyes and letting himself think happy thoughts instead of the sad ones that normally came to his mind.

He eventually fell asleep, but didn't stay asleep for very long, being woken up by a confusing dream. He was next to someone he couldn't quite make out, sat in a playground. It looked like Kilbury Park, the playground he was going to be meeting Michael in later, but everything seemed pastel, like the world was covered in some strange mist. He'd looked over at the person he was next to, smiling at them. They seemed to move closer together, when Rich's eyes went into focus and he saw who was there. Michael, smiling, his face inches away from Rich's.

Then he woke up.

"Weird f*ckin dream," he mumbled to himself, confused. In his asleep state he'd ended up completely wrapping himself up in Michael's hoodie, and he guessed that was what caused that dream. It couldn't really have been anything else. Just his brain being weird. That weird feeling was there, even stronger now, but again, he ignored it.

He checked the time. 6:30am. He groaned, exhausted, knowing he didn't have enough time to go back to sleep, burying his face in the hoodie again for a few more minutes, before getting up to get ready.

Throughout the next day, Rich read the message over and over, his heart racing every single time he looked at it, nervous about what he'd say or do, or if Michael was asking to meet up and saying he wasn't able to help out any more, or he didn't want to associate with Rich, or anything like that.

The day seemed to pass in a complete blur, with Rich being unable to focus on anything, keeping his head down. He couldn't really think about anything around him, keeping to himself. Jake was still annoyed, which sucked, but he had more important things to think about. He didn't tell Jeremy about the note, half because he wasn't able to catch him alone, he was always attached to Jake, and half because he thought Michael must have some reason to have left him the note, and not said anything to Jeremy, and he wasn't going to disrespect that.

After school, he found himself sitting in his sister's living room, bouncing his leg in anticipation, checking the clock what felt like every five seconds. He could hear it ticking. He could hear his heart beating. He could see the note again in his head. What if there was a mistake, though? What if Michael just didn't turn up? What if he was only asked to meet up because Michael wanted to not have the responsibility of taking care of him any more. He kept glancing around himself, trying to find a distraction.

He could barely eat the food his sister had given him, forcing it down because he knew she was just trying her best to look after him in such a tiny apartment. She normally worked a decent job, but the company was struggling, so her wages had gone down, and she was struggling to keep up on rent, let alone feeding two people. He felt like such a burden on everyone.

When the clock struck 10:40, Rich was out the door in an instant, walking as quickly as he could down to the playground, his hands shaking. He was walking so quickly that it only took him eight minutes to get there. He walked in, sitting down on the swing, expecting to have to wait for him, bouncing his leg from anxiety.

Michael looked up from his bedroom window, the lights turned down low as they had been for the past week. He saw Rich and immediately stood up, rushing to the bathroom. He threw some cold water onto his face in a feeble attempt to try and make himself look less stressed. He pulled on the red hoodie, rushing downstairs and out the door without a single word.

Rich's heart leapt when he saw Michael walking across the road, his hood up and his sleeves pulled down over his hands, opening the creaky gate and walking up to Rich.

Rich looked up and felt his heart sink. Michael looked... broken. His face was pale and he had dark bags under his eyes, which had gone from their shiny dark brown to a dull, faded, muddy colour. His movements were slow and careful, and Rich could see his hands shaking whenever his hoodie shifted enough that his hands were visible. When Michael had opened the gate, Rich saw a bandage around his hand, that clearly continued up his arm.

Michael gave Rich a weak, forced smile. "Hey," he whispered. His voice was hoarse and sounded as if it hadn't been used in a while. Rich knew something was seriously wrong.

"Michael, what's wrong?" he asked.

Michael completely ignored the question. "I'm sorry for disappearing on you like that. I was being selfish. I hope you're doing okay."

Rich listened to him speaking slowly, worried. "I'm okay, and you're not selfish. Did something happen, what's wrong?"

He ignored the question again. "Sorry that it took so long to meet up again. It's nice to see you, though."

Rich realised he might not be getting an answer, thinking. "Michael, can you just tell me what happened?" He whispered.

"I'm sorry for being selfish," Michael repeated, not wanting to answer Rich's question. "I just wanted to let you know I'm okay. I'm going back to school tomorrow, I'll bring food."

Rich was shaking, partially from that feeling he still didn't understand, and partially from how worried he was about Michael. "You don't have to do that. I'm at my sister's right now, she's doing her best to provide for me."

Michael replied with a weak smile. "That's good that you have someone there. Still, let me help you. If she's doing her best, I want to help with that."

Rich nodded, standing up. "Can I have a hug?" He asked softly.

Michael hesitated. "I'm sorry... no..." he whispered, stepping back and looking down at his sleeve, playing with it.

Rich was slightly disappointed, but understood that something clearly traumatic had happened, and Michael seemed like he could be a bit sensitive right now, sitting back down. "You don't need to apologise. It's nice to see you again."

Michael nodded, sitting down on the swing next to him. "It's nice to see you too. I wanted to talk to someone I trust."

Rich couldn't help but smile at that, getting a weak smile from Michael in return. They talked for a while, the brightness coming back into Michael's eyes a tiny bit more, but his smile still seeming small and afraid. Rich was worried, but he knew there was no point asking until Michael felt ready to share. After around an hour, Michael checked his phone for the time. "Sorry, Rich, I should go," he whispered, standing up and putting his phone in his pocket. "Thanks for talking out here with me. I know it's dark, and a bit cold, but I just really wanted to see you again."

Rich stood up, giving him a small wave, taken by surprise as Michael took a step forward and wrapped his arms around him. The hug was exactly what Rich needed, just as warm and comforting as he remembered. He felt his heart speed up again, not wanting to let go, disappointed when Michael stepped back. "See you tomorrow, Rich," he said, his voice still weak but a little less dull.

Rich glanced down, unable to hold back a smile, walking back to his sister's apartment, feeling way better than before. He was worried, but he knew Michael still cared.

Chapter 16: Soft

Chapter Text

Rich slept well for the first time in ages that night, looking forward to the next day at school, and seeing Michael more often again. He was still worried, though. He wasn't used to seeing Michael looking so weak, and it scared him. He really hoped Michael would end up opening up about what had happened, but he doubted it. After all, Michael still didn't know about Rich's dad's treatment of him, and Rich didn't plan to tell him. He'd probably figured it out already, but Rich didn't plan on explicitly saying anything to him.

When he woke up in the morning, he had a feeling of excitement that he couldn't quite place, before remembering Michael saying he was coming back into school. He quickly got up off the couch, making himself some breakfast, before leaving the house, grabbing his bag. He decided not to wear the hoodie that day. It was too warm for that.

He waited anxiously by his locker, a feeling of doom sinking in when the minutes ticked past but there was no sign of Michael arriving. He couldn't ask Jeremy, seeing him cuddled up close to Jake as per usual. Jake was still mad at him. He still glared whenever Rich walked past or dared to look over at him, pulling Jeremy closer whenever he did like Rich was going to snap and attack him again.

Rich's heart sank when the bell rang to start the day, still not seeing Michael, walking to his class with a sad feeling clawing at his stomach.

He kept his head down, sitting near the front, seeing Jeremy next to Jake at the back, his head on Jake's shoulder. As much as Jake hated him right now, it was still cute to see that.

About five minutes after class had started, someone walked in late, a black hoodie on and their head down, the hood pulled up to hide their face.

"Hood down, Mell," the teacher said, pointing at the empty seat next to Rich.

Rich's heart leapt slightly at who it was, giving him a small wave and a smile. "I didn't recognise you without the red hoodie," he joked, disappointed when Michael did nothing but give him a quick nod.

He tried to focus on class, but how was he supposed to focus when Michael was that close to him? The desks weren't very big, so they were closer together than Rich had expected. Again, he didn't know why Michael made him feel like this, but it seemed to get stronger and stronger every day. His whole face burned up bright red when his leg brushed against Michael's, and he couldn't help but feel slightly disappointed when Michael quickly pulled his leg away, wondering if Michael was upset with him.

About halfway into the period, Michael seemed to remember something, looking through his bag, pulling out lunch and quickly scribbling a note, sliding it over to Rich.

'Sorry if I worried you, I woke up late. Here's lunch.' The message read, in Michael's familiar messy handwriting.

"Thank you," Rich whispered, putting the lunch in his bag and putting the note in his pocket.

"No problem," Michael whispered back, his voice just as shaky as it had sounded the night before. "You okay?"

Rich nodded. "Are you?"

Michael didn't react, continuing to do the work. "Meeting up yesterday was nice," he whispered. "I'm glad you showed up. I didn't think you would."

Rich smiled slightly. "Of course I showed up, I missed you," he replied, wondering if that sounded weird.

A small smile flickered onto Michael's face for a split second, so quick that Rich had to wonder if he'd imagined it. "I missed you too," he admitted, in a soft voice that made Rich's emotions go haywire. Why was this happening to his emotions? He'd never felt like this for any guy before, and he didn't even know what it was. Feelings are f*cking weird.

When the period ended, Michael waved a quick goodbye to Rich, giving him another soft smile. "See you at lunch, okay Rich?"

Rich nodded, smiling and wandering to his next class, feeling much better.

When it finally got to lunch, Rich wandered to the cafeteria, looking around for Michael, sighing when he saw him sitting with Jake and Jeremy, but deciding to wander over anyway.

"Hey Rich." Michael gestured for Rich to take the seat next to him, his now normally dull eyes lighting up slightly when Rich did that.

"Seriously?" Jake asked, rolling his eyes.

Michael looked confused. "What happened?" he asked. "I know Rich got suspended, but I genuinely have no idea what else happened."

"Jake, it doesn't matter, it's fine," Jeremy pleaded, pushing up the sleeves of the varsity jacket he was wearing which was clearly too big for him, the surname 'Dillinger' on the back giving a pretty good indication as to why it was so big on Jeremy.

"He hurt you," Jake replied.

"Hey, it's fine, I can go," Rich began, standing up, feeling compelled to stay, slowly sitting down again when Michael grabbed his arm, shaking his head.

"What happened?" Michael asked Jeremy, not taking his hand off Rich's arm.

Jeremy sighed. "Rich was asking if we'd seen you, and I shared some information that I shouldn't have, and Rich rightly got upset about it and snapped at us..." He started, thinking through how to explain the next bit. "So I got frustrated and lied to him, and he freaked out."

"What was the lie?" Michael asked, seeing the way Rich was looking down to avoid eye contact. He let go of his arm, thinking he was making Rich uncomfortable.

Jeremy hesitated. "I told him you didn't actually care?" He mumbled, wondering how Michael would react.

Michael narrowed his eyes at Jeremy. "That's kinda f*cked up," he replied bluntly. "Rich reacted badly, but you shouldn't have said that in the first place."

Jeremy nodded. "I know, I felt so bad, that's why I forgave him so quickly. I just got really upset when it happened because I was scared. It's in the past now, though."

Jake was still giving Rich a dirty look. "I've not forgiven him," he stated, shrugging. "I'm gonna protect Jere no matter what."

Jeremy leaned his head on Jake's shoulder, doing puppy dog eyes. "You should forgive him, babe, I don't like seeing you angry," He complained.

Michael rolled his eyes. "He's such a simp," he joked towards Rich, nervously putting an arm around him when Rich didn't react. "It's fine, you know? Jake'll come around," he whispered, giving him a quick side hug before dropping his arm.

Jake rolled his eyes. "Rich hurt you, and I'm not gonna be okay with it just because he has anger issues or something."

"How about you back off, okay?" Michael replied, glaring. "How about we just agree nobody was in the right in that situation. It's done now. It's over with. Suck it up, and move on."

"You've changed since you were gone. What happened? Did someone piss you off so badly that you had to be dramatic and take a week of school? You're being such a downer right now. So depressing," Jake hissed. Jeremy said nothing, unsure of what to do.

Rich stood up, finally deciding to actually do something. "Shut the f*ck up, Jake. Come on, Michael, let's sit somewhere else," he snapped.

Michael got up immediately, following him to another table. "Thanks," he whispered, clearly very upset by what Jake had said.

"What happened, if you don't mind me asking?" Rich asked, sitting next to him instead of opposite, even though opposite probably would have been easier.

"I don't think I'm ready to talk about it," he admitted. "I'm sorry."

"Don't apologise, okay? Take your time. It's clearly hurt you a lot, and I won't push you to talk about it. It's your decision what you say and don't say."

Michael nodded, sighing, opening his mouth to speak again before shaking his head. "Thank you. I don't know what else to say, sorry."

"You have nothing to apologise for," Rich told him, flashing him a quick smile, relieved when he returned it.

At the end of the day, Rich saw Michael leaving, running to catch up with him.

"Hey... Michael..." he panted, smiling.

Michael laughed slightly, covering his mouth. "Why did you run?"

"Just... just wanted to ask if you were feeling okay now," He explained, leaning against a wall.

Michael nodded. "I'm definitely feeling better than I was," he replied. "Do you wanna walk home with me? My moms are busy so you can't come over, so I get it if you don't wanna walk back, but I've missed talking to you."

Rich felt his heart speed up again, nodding. "I'll walk back with you," he agreed immediately, starting to walk with him.

They walked together, talking about whatever came to their minds, not a single lull in the conversation. Michael definitely both looked better and sounded better than he had, talking casually with Rich.

When they arrived at Michael's house, Michael barely hesitated before throwing his arms around Rich, hugging him close. When he pulled away after a few seconds, his eyes seemed to linger on Rich's, a soft smile on his face. "Thanks, Richie," he said softly.

Rich turned a dark red colour at the nickname, unable to respond properly, stammering, looking through his brain trying to find a response to that, but Michael had gone back into the house before he could manage a quiet 'no problem'.

He sat down on the wall outside the park, cringing at his own awkwardness, before hearing his phone go off.

Jakey D: Sorry dude, I was thinking about what Michael said earlier and I was being a dick. Wanna come over and hang?

He hesitated, wondering if he should, before deciding it was probably a good idea to distract himself from how awkward he was.

Rich: Sure, i'll be there.

Chapter 17: Home

Notes:

(TW: hom*ophobic slur)

Chapter Text

Rich wandered up to Jake's house, feeling awkward, knocking on the door. The house was definitely intimidating compared to the tiny apartment Rich had been staying in with his sister, which was on a crowded, busy street. Jake's house, however, was in a quiet, pretty neighbourhood, filled with a lot of middle aged right-wing people.

They must have absolutely hated when Jake's family moved in.

Jake's parents being on the run now probably didn't help that. Or Jake's parties. Or Jake having a boyfriend.

Rich sighed, feeling a bit bad for how much judgement Jake would have received, stepping forward and knocking on the door.

Jake opened the door, a clear sense of tension in the air. "Uh, hey," he mumbled, "Do you wanna come in?" he asked.

Rich nodded and stepped in. "Thanks," he replied, keeping his head down. He couldn't help but feel nervous. Jake was a foot taller than him, and had spent the last week or so being mad at him, so if he suddenly snapped at Rich, Rich was completely screwed.

"You want something to drink?" Jake asked, going over to the fridge and getting out two cans of cider, holding one up for Rich.

He shook his head. "I don't drink," he replied quietly.

Jake raised one eyebrow. "You used to. You used to drink the most out of any of us at parties," He tempted, holding it out for Rich to take.

"I know I used to drink the most, then I'd puke, say mean sh*t, and be unable to function the next day," He defended. "So no thanks."

"You're more sensitive than you used to be," Jake sighed, putting the other can back and opening his, taking a sip.

Rich glared. "And what's the problem with that?" He asked.

"Nothing, just doesn't seem like you," He told him. "Anyway, I just want to apologise for if I hurt you or anything, I was just protecting Jeremy but he seems okay with it now so I will be too."

"So... you haven't actually forgiven me?" he asked, sitting down on the couch. "You're just being nice because your new temporary f*ckbuddy is telling you to be?"

"Hey!" Jake snapped, before lowering his tone and sitting down when Rich flinched. "It's not the same with Jeremy as it has been with everyone else. I really, really like Jeremy. He makes me feel... things I haven't really felt with other people. Like... I don't even know..."

"Like love?" Rich offered, still a bit defensive but softening his tone a bit, deciding to be nicer to Jake.

Jake's face softened and spread into a small smile. "Yeah, like love, I suppose."

"Good for you, dude, and Jeremy seems happy with you. Just make sure you're not taking too much time away from Jeremy talking to Michael, I feel like Michael kind of needs it right now," Rich explained, wanting to play with the sleeves on his (aka Michael's) hoodie, which he always did when he thought about Michael, annoyed he'd decided to leave the hoodie that day.

"I wondered how long it would be until you brought up Michael," he hinted with a wink.

Rich looked confused. "What are you talking about?" he asked.

"Rich, bro, seriously? You think it's not the most obvious thing in the world that you like him?" He questioned, laughing slightly.

Rich turned red at that comment, shaking his head. "What? No, I'm not- I mean, it's okay if you are, of course it is- but like, no- that's not me. I'm not into guys."

Jake started laughing. "You don't think you're into guys? Dude, I have been friends with you for what is it? Like, almost two years now? You're definitely into guys. You know when we get wasted at parties? You never. stop. staring. at. guys."

Rich shook his head, in complete denial. "I was just watching people have fun!" He defended.

Chapter 18: Mirror

Notes:

(TW: Self-harm)

Chapter Text

Rich walked back to his house, shaking, staring at the ground, his hands jammed into his pockets. He sighed, biting his lip, frantically wiping away tears. He wondered if it would be easier to just sleep on the street that night, and try to sort out somewhere to stay tomorrow, but he had no idea. He glanced up at his house, smiling slightly when he saw the tree next to the open window. He used to sneak out that way so many times, but had forgotten about it recently.

With a deep breath, he went up to the tree, grabbing a branch and hauling himself up. He kept on climbing, his hands being scratched up by the rough bark. He got up to the windowsill, throwing his bag through, flinching when it hit his bedroom floor with a thud. He waited a few seconds, breathing a sigh of relief, before climbing in after it, locking the window behind him.

He walked over to his closet, opening the door and grabbing a teddy bear his sister had given to him after their mom died, before crawling into bed with it, curling up in a ball. He he didn't even bother to get changed, clinging to the teddy bear, hiding his face in it for comfort. He couldn't. Stop. Thinking.

He had so much to think about. Jake definitely hated him now, and Jeremy probably would too. If Jeremy hated him and told Michael, he knew Michael would hate him as well. Michael was something else to think about. He mentally begged himself to not be in love with Michael, hoping it was just his brain clinging on to someone who had shown him nothing but kindness when he needed it most. He hated the idea that he wasn't straight. It was just something else for his dad to hate him for.

He started to feel rage bubbling in his chest. He was one of three siblings, but the only one who was treated like that. His brother, Oliver, was always the favourite, given everything the other two never had. That was because he thought and acted like their dad so much, pretty much just a copy of him. The only difference was that Oliver never hurt Rich. His dad didn't treat his oldest child, Natalie, particularly badly, but the only reason he was kind to her at all was because of how much she looked like their mom.

Natalie was Rich's mom, through and through. She was just like her, down to her soft voice and bright, sunny smile. She had acted as Rich's mom, too, doing her best to look after him in any way she could manage. She'd moved out when she was 22, though, and Rich was just 14, because she couldn't handle the stress. She'd always done her best, but sometimes enough was enough. She'd wanted to take Rich with her so badly, though.

The rage kept on growing inside Rich, clawing at his insides, causing him physical pain. He stood up, walking over to his bedroom mirror and drawing his fist back, not thinking about it before slamming his hand into the glass.

With a loud crash, pieces of glass flew around the room, most of them falling onto the floor in front of Rich, some of them flying back and hitting his face, scratching his cheeks. He was breathing heavily, picking up a shard and holding it tight, using it to cut lines into his arms. His hands were bleeding, but he didn't care. All he ever did was cause pain and sadness. He didn't do sh*t for anybody.

What he didn't realise was that the shattering glass had woken his dad up, his heavy footsteps moving up the stairs. "The f*ck are you doing?" He hissed, throwing open the door.

Rich sat on the floor motionlessly, the glass shard in his hand.

"I'm not buying you another piece of sh*t mirror, okay?" he growled. "Also good job randomly disappearing for a week. You're lucky you've done my job for me, or you wouldn't be f*cking conscious right now," he hissed, slamming the door.

Rich stayed motionless, his eyes stinging but no tears coming out. He just sat and let his mind go blank, trying to slow down his breathing as the pain brought him back to reality.

The door opened again a minute or so later, a dustpan and brush been thrown at Rich, hitting his cheek. "Clean this sh*t up."

He waited until he couldn't hear his dad's footsteps any more, before standing up shakily and starting to clean up, his arms covered in blood.

Once he'd got rid of all the glass in his room, he walked over to the bathroom, washing the blood off his arms. He looked through the medical cupboard and found a bandage, wrapping it around his arms, having to go over his hand too, from where he'd punched the mirror. The anger issues definitely ran in the family. There was nothing else to say about that. As much as he hated him, Rich had definitely picked some things up from his dad's behaviour.

He sighed and looked down at his bandaged arms, annoyed at himself. He went back through to his bedroom, looking through his bag, smiling softly when his hand wrapped around Michael's hoodie. He quickly pulled it on, before climbing into bed, turning off the lights. Screw his homework, and screw his feelings. He just needed to sleep.

Just as he was about to go to sleep, he saw his phone screen light up.

M: Is it true?

Rich froze, wondering what Michael had been told. Had he told Michael that Rich liked him? He didn't really know what else it could be.

R: is what true?

M: That you're hom*ophobic. I wanted to think it was just you in the past but if you still are then that's kind of sh*tty.

Rich was relieved that Jake hadn't said anything about thinking he liked Michael, but felt like complete sh*t for what he'd said.

R: i'm not, i swear. i really f*cked up with what i said, i know, but i swear i don't think like that. my dad has all these sh*tty opinions and i guess they just get stuck in my head.

M: Okay, that's good to know as long as you're not actually hom*ophobic. I understand sh*tty parents.

R: your moms are great though.

M: I'm sorry, I'm not really comfortable with them being called my moms. I've only been here for a few months, and I think I'm in the right place, but I'm just not comfortable with seeing them that way yet.

R: yeah, that's completely cool, sorry

M: Don't apologise, it's okay, I get it :)

R: again, sorry for what i said, i promise i don't actually think like that

M: I believe you, just please don't ever call someone that again.

R: i won't, i swear

M: :)

R: :D

Rich looked at his phone and smiled, happy that Michael seemed to have forgiven him, his heart beating a little faster when he thought about seeing Michael again. He looked down at his bandaged up hand. sh*t, of course Michael would ask if he was okay because of that. He couldn't tell Michael what he'd done. He sighed, switching his phone screen off, catching sight of himself in his reflection and gasping, turning on his camera to check he was seeing things right.

Where the dustpan and brush had hit his face he had a huge red mark, that looked like it could bruise. He could hide the bandages, but there was no way he could hide that, and Michael didn't seem like the type to ignore it. He bit his lip, slamming his phone down and trying to ignore it, cuddling up to the teddy bear he found so much comfort in.

He just hoped he could lie his way out of telling Michael what had really happened.

When he finally drifted off to sleep, Michael was in his dream again, his arms around Rich, that now familiar warm sensation that made him feel like nobody could hurt him. Michael's voice talking to him, telling him things were going to be okay. And he believed him. He wanted, more than anything, to believe that voice his own mind had created. So he did. He trusted Michael, and maybe felt even more to him than just that trust.

Chapter 19: Makeup

Chapter Text

When Rich woke up the next day, he immediately felt a dull ache over one side of his face. Groaning, he dragged himself out of bed, still wearing the same clothes he'd been wearing the day before. He quickly walked through to the bathroom, flicking the light on and blinking rapidly, adjusting himself to the bright lights. He let his eyes come into focus, before looking up at the mirror.

A dark, reddish purple bruise had formed over part of the left half of his face, standing out clearly against his pale skin and freckles. He bit the inside of his cheek to stop himself from making any noise. He put his finger against his face and touched it, wincing as the ache got worse.

He shook his head, going back into his room and quickly getting changed. Michael's hoodie was definitely necessary to cover the bandages, even though it was meant to be warm that day. He tried to ignore the stinging in his arms and the aching in his cheek, before having an idea.

He walked through the dark hallway, squinting, coming up to his sister's old bedroom. He walked in, not surprised to see it exactly as she'd left it. Their dad was far too lazy to clear anything old out. He walked over to her desk, remembering the drawer she'd kept her makeup in.

He smiled softly as he remembered why he knew it was there. He remembered Natalie being 15, and him being 7, when his mom was still around. They'd found one of Natalie's old princess dresses from playing dress up as a little girl, and were ecstatic to see that it fit Rich. His mom had sat in Natalie's bedroom, helping her put makeup on him, the two of them laughing happily as they gave him a full glam look, taking pictures of him as he treated the hallway like a runway, dancing and posing, a huge smile on his face.

His dad had put a stop to their fun pretty quickly. While he'd been a better parent before his wife passed away, he still had very conservative opinions, and had absolutely hated seeing Rich running up and down the hall in a puffy pink dress, giggling and squealing from happiness. He remembered his dad's exact words, when he got home and saw.

"Don't do that to the poor boy, you'll turn him gay," He'd said. Rich remembered how his dad had hissed the word 'gay'. Rich, only being seven, growing up in a sheltered household, had no idea what it meant, but whatever this gay thing was, it must be pretty bad if his dad hated it that much.

Rich couldn't help but laugh slightly at the irony. "You did your best to make sure I didn't end up gay. Guess what dad? Just figured out I'm into dudes too," he whispered, rolling his eyes. He didn't believe any of what his dad said any more. He knew it was all bullsh*t. There was still a voice in his head that insulted him for it, but he knew to ignore it. Jake wasn't straight, Jeremy wasn't straight, Michael apparently also wasn't straight. Michael had gay foster moms who had treated him with nothing but kindness.

"f*ck you, dad. This gay thing maybe isn't so bad," he joked, keeping his voice at a whisper so his dad wouldn't hear. "And I looked bomb as f*ck in that dress," he added on, relieved to see makeup in the drawer he opened. It must have been years old, but it was better than nothing.

He found something labelled 'concealer', that looked like it would work for the bruise. He picked it up and carried it back into the bathroom, opening the bottle and using the weird looking brush thing to put it on his face. It looked like the right colour, and it did a good job hiding the bruise. It wasn't completely gone, but definitely not immediately noticeable any more. He breathed a sigh of relief, making his way back to his bedroom and getting some of his work together. He didn't have any periods with Michael today, apart from lunch. So that sucked. At least he could still see him before school.

Michael seemed a bit happier that day, greeting Rich with a small smile and a wave, the way he always did before he disappeared. He walked over, passing some food, before noticing the hoodie again.

"What's with the hoodie?" he asked. "It's boiling today. I'm always wearing a hoodie and even I decided just a long sleeved shirt was fine for today." He sounded light hearted, but based off the pattern of Rich's long sleeves and worse emotions, it was coming out of a hidden place of concern.

Rich shrugged, trying to play it off as nothing. "I just felt like it," he replied. Internally he was dying from the heat, but externally he was acting as casual as he could.

Michael nodded, clearly not quite believing him but not wanting to push it. He seemed noticed something and quickly had a confused expression on his face. "Are you wearing makeup?"

Rich looked panicked for a second, his eyes widening. "Uh, yeah, a bit. How can you tell?"

"You've normally got freckles. Today you don't," Michael explained casually.

Rich nodded. "Yeah, maybe I should have thought about that."

"You still look good," Michael said casually. "I just really like your freckles."

Rich turned red, relieved his hood was up and he had makeup on, or Michael would definitely see his burning red face. "Um... thanks," he whispered.

"sh*t, sorry, did I make you uncomfortable?" Michael asked, taking a step back.

Rich quickly shook his head. "No, I'm just not used to compliments," he admitted.

"Oh?" Michael seemed confused by him saying that. "Why not?"

Rich shrugged. "I just... don't get compliments very much..."

"Do you like compliments though?" He asked.

Rich nodded, his hands in the hoodie pocket to hide the bandage. "Of course I do. Who doesn't?"

"Then I think I can help," he replied with a smile. "You look good. You always do."

Rich laughed it off, smiling wide, his heart pounding in his chest. "Thanks, so do you," he told him, grinning, before feeling disappointed when the bell went off for first period.

"See you at lunch, Rich!" Michael said with a wave.

When lunch rolled around, Rich took an empty seat in the cafeteria, away from Jake and Jeremy, who were both, and rightfully so, he thought, mad at him. He saw Michael walk in and look up at Jake and Jeremy's table, seeming to consider it for a second, before seeing Rich and walking over, sitting down.

Straightaway, Michael's eyes travelled down to the bandage around Rich's hand, and his face softened. "Hey, if you ever need to talk, I'm here."

Rich pulled the sleeve further over his hands. "It's not that, I just scratched my arm," he lied.

Michael didn't believe him but decided not to push it. He sighed and started to eat, not eating much, barely picking at his food. He'd done the same yesterday, not eating much at all. Michael seemed happier, but his face still looked dull and tired, in a way that worried Rich.

They ate mostly in silence, before Michael let out a sigh. "It's true, you know?" He whispered.

"What is?" Rich asked, confused.

"What people said about me. Last year. When everything went down. It's true."

Rich had to think for a second about what Michael meant, before realising, his heart rate seeming to double. Of course he felt bad about what had happened to Michael, but now he knew for certain that Michael was gay.

"Dude, that sucks," he sighed, shaking his head. "Some f*cking parents, right?"

Michael laughed slightly. "I bet you can't imagine having parents that sh*tty."

Rich raised one eyebrow. "Bet," he replied in a joking manner, not expecting Michael's response.

"So... your dad being the way Jake said is true?" Michael asked.

Rich's eyes narrowed. "Jake told people?" He asked. "sh*t, we have an agreement that everything we say while drunk is then forgotten and ignored once we're sober."

Michael shook his head. "You shouldn't bottle it up, Rich. You shouldn't. I know I'm not one to talk, Mr Secretive and all that," he told him, joking slightly, before turning serious again. "You're with your sister now, though, right?"

Rich sighed and hesitated, putting his face in his hands. "No. I'm not. I stayed there for a week then they said they'd kick her out if I didn't leave."

Michael looked worried. "Oh... I'm so sorry..." He wasn't sure what else to say.

Rich pulled his face away from his hands, not noticing the makeup rubbing off on the sleeves. "It's... whatever. I can deal with it."

Michael saw the bruise and froze up. "What happened?" He asked, pointing to his own cheek to show Rich what he was referring to.

Rich shook his head, not wanting to say

Michael sighed, getting out his phone and quickly texting his moms.

Rich sighed, looking down. "Sorry," he whispered.

"Don't apologise. You're staying at mine tonight, okay?"

Chapter 20: Touch

Notes:

(TW A LOT OF BAD STUFF BUT I CAN'T SAY EXACTLY WHAT BECAUSE OF SPOILERS I'LL JUST PUT ONE RIGHT BEFORE THE THING)

Chapter Text

Rich sat nervously in Michael's car, bouncing his leg from anxiety, wondering if Michael actually meant what he said about Rich staying over that night. What if Rich was actually just staying the evening? He was terrified of f*cking something up, especially since Michael had forgiven him for saying something so sh*tty, and had then told him something personal, trusting him with it. Michael knew about the bruise now, too, and Rich knew he couldn't do anything to avoid that conversation. Same with the bandages on his arms.

"You okay?" Michael asked, pulling up to his house.

Rich sighed shakily. "Yeah, just haven't been great recently."

"Tell me about it," Michael said, a very light joking tone in his voice, but it was obvious that something seriously wrong had happened. "It's okay, though, I'll help you figure something out, okay?" he said, parking the car and getting out, waiting for Rich to follow.

Rich sighed. "You don't have to. It's not that bad."

Michael shook his head and walked in, picking up his mom's first aid kit on the way up to his bedroom. Rich followed behind, still shaky and nervous.

"Sit down on the bed, okay?" Michael said, getting out a baby wipe and sitting down next to him. He didn't even think to pass the baby wipe to Rich, the protective part of his brain automatically going to cupping Rich's chin and wiping the makeup off him himself, his movements soft and slow, making sure not to put any pressure down over the bruise.

Rich's face was burning up red at that, his brain freaking out at Michael's caring movements.

"Are you okay? You're really warm. Are you overheating?" He asked, putting the back of his hand against Rich's forehead.

Rich quickly shook his head, knowing his blushing was the reason he was so warm. Michael finished wiping the makeup off him, before inspecting Rich's face, his expression soft and caring.

"sh*t, that looks painful," he mumbled. "Does it hurt? How did it happen?"

"It hurts a bit... and I fell," he lied.

Michael sighed. "Look, I'm not going to force you or anything, I'd just really like if you could tell me the truth so I can be there for you."

Rich sighed and hesitated. "My dad threw something at me," he admitted, whispering.

Michael sighed. "Sorry," he whispered.

"Why are you apologising? You haven't done anything wrong," Rich said to Michael, confused.

"I'm just... sorry that happened to you, you deserve better. Can I see your arms now, please? If you don't take care of things like that properly, they could get infected, and I don't want that to happen."

Rich sighed. "I told you, I just scratched it."

Michael thought for a second. "Well can I see the scratch? I don't want that to get infected either."

Rich knew there was no way out of this and sighed, pulling off his hoodie, looking at the wall with shame when Michael slowly unwrapped the bandages on his arm.

"f*ck, Rich, this is bad..." he whispered, getting out an antiseptic wipe. "This is gonna hurt."

Rich felt himself tearing up at Michael's comment, feeling guilty.

"Wait, no, please don't cry, I'm sorry, I didn't mean it like that," Michael whispered, hugging Rich. "I'm not annoyed at you. This is clearly serious, and I'm not trying to guilt you because of it."

Rich started to cry into Michael's shoulder. He wasn't used to the support, he wasn't used to people caring, he wasn't used to people being this nice to him, and this soft touch, and the way Michael made him feel, and it just broke him.

Michael kept his arms around Rich, rubbing circles into his back. "Let it out, Rich, it's okay," he told him, realising Rich wasn't used to the support. "You don't have to hold back. You can cry."

Rich's soft crying turned into heavy sobs, clinging to Michael, grabbing Michael's hoodie in his hands and scrunching up his fists. They must have been there for a few minutes at least, Rich just sobbing from his complete hatred of the world, and everything he'd experienced all being so different to how Michael made him feel.

Michael made him feel like he was cared about, or like there was some reason to trust people. Michael made him feel... more than completely worthless.

A short while later, Rich's sobs started to slow down. He pulled away from the hug, wiping his eyes.

Michael took Rich's arm again, using the wipe to clean up the cuts, clearly very deep in thought. Rich decided to stay silent, flinching slightly at the pain.

When the cuts were clean again and bandaged up, Michael leaned back in his bed. "Do you want to know why I was gone?" Michael mumbled.

Rich nodded, moving closer.

"Remember that night I dropped you off at home?" He asked. Rich nodded, not wanting to interrupt, sensing a slightly strained tone in Michael's voice. "I got lost on the way home. It was dark... I was scared... I started to panic. Then I felt... something... near me," he explained. Rich listened, nervous for what Michael was about to tell him. It was clearly something he found painful to think about.

"You don't have to tell me," Rich told Michael, seeing the way Michael was now struggling to breathe a bit more as he ran through the memory in his head.

Michael shook his head. "I need to tell you. Catherine and Vivian know, and they told me it might be good to tell someone I trust. Really, really trust. I think they meant Jeremy. I don't care either way. I'm sorry for throwing this onto you, I can stop if you want."

"You can tell me, just don't say anything you don't feel comfortable saying."

(TW: SEXUAL ASSAULT)

Michael nodded. "So... I looked around, and there was this guy there. He wasn't much taller than me, but he was definitely stronger. And... he grabbed me. He grabbed me and pushed me to the concrete," Michael's voice started to get strained again, his hands shaking, his words getting faster and faster as he spoke. "And he... wouldn't stop putting his hands all over me, and I begged and begged and begged him to just stop and he wouldn't and he kept moving his hands and he was touching my chest and he was touching my waist and he wad touching my thighs and then he had his hand down my jeans and he was touching somewhere else and he was pulling down my jeans and I was trying to scream for help... but nobody was there," he whispered, rocking back and forth from stress. "And he didn't stop. He... y'know... did- uh. He..." He stammered, his head down. "And it hurt."

Rich was completely speechless, so many emotions rushing through his body.

"f*ck, sh*t, okay, I knew I shouldn't have told you, f*ck, f*ck, I'm so stupid," Michael whispered, panicked.

"You're not stupid," Rich whispered. "I just don't know what to say to that. Just... what the f*ck?"

Michael sighed, everything shaking. "It feels... better now I've told you."

"Do you have any idea who he was?" Rich asked.

Michael shook his head. "I couldn't see anything. My glasses fell off, and I was way too scared to pay attention. I think... that's why I didn't want to hug you at first. My brain just made this connection that anybody touching me was bad and needed to stop, and I hadn't really fixed that connection yet. Then we spoke for a bit... and it was better. And I knew I still trusted you."

Rich nodded, completely unsure of what to say, just wanting to be there for him. He felt bad about his feelings for Michael now, knowing he couldn't tell him.

"Can we cuddle?" Michael whispered, sensing the tension.

Rich's brain immediately went into gay panic mode, his heart racing and his eyes wide.

"Oh, f*ck, sorry, did that make you uncomfortable?" he asked. "I just... I used to cuddle with Jeremy a lot when we were upset and it made things feel better. Nothing romantic or anything, just something to make you feel better."

Rich considered it, his face red, before nodding. "Sorry I reacted like that, I just haven't really been asked that before."

Michael lay down, gesturing for Rich to get in bed next to him. Rich climbed into the double bed, trying not to panic when Michael hugged him close.

"Do you want me to sleep on the couch tonight, and you can sleep here?" Michael asked, trying to change the subject from what he'd just told Rich.

Rich shook his head. "I'll take the couch."

"You're the guest, you get the bed," Michael said, wanting to sound jokey but his voice unsurprisingly weak.

"No, I'll take the couch."

"I mean... it is a double bed. We could share? You know, as long as you're not uncomfortable with that."

Rich couldn't help but smile at that thought, Michael taking it as approval for his idea.

"Cool, sorted, we'll just share," he said, seeming way less tense after telling Rich that.

Rich sighed and looked down, feeling Michael's arms still around him, hugging him close. "Can I tell you something? It's no big deal, I just want to tell you. It's nothing compared to what you told me, and I'm so f*cking pissed that happened to you, by the way."

Michael looked down at Rich's face.

"Just say what's on your mind."

He was going to tell Michael he liked him. He was going to.

"I don't think I'm straight," he blurted out.

He couldn't tell him.

Chapter 21: Family

Chapter Text

"Oh?" Michael replied, not looking particularly surprised. "You like guys?" He asked Rich.

Rich nodded nervously, looking down.

"It's okay! You don't have to worry," he reminded Rich, giving him a small smile. "As if I'd judge, I'm gay as hell," he joked, before pulling Rich into a tight hug again. "Telling people is difficult though, so I'm proud of you for that. Does anyone else know?"

Rich thought, then shook his head. "Jake tried to guess... and I snapped at him and said that... thing."

"What made Jake think you like guys?" he asked, curious.

Rich sighed, knowing he couldn't say it's because of how he acted with Michael. "I guess he's just known me for a while and that's what he thought, and I got defensive."

"Internalised hom*ophobia is a bitch, huh?" He mumbled. "It gets better with time, and with support, though," he told Rich, pulling away from the tight hug and sitting up more.

Rich took it as a hint that Michael wanted to stop cuddling, sitting up next to him but not leaning on him like he wanted to, surprised when Michael casually put his arm around his shoulder. "People are always gonna be assholes, and you just have to remember that they're wrong. When, you know, the incident with me happened, I posted it anonymously on reddit, on a random throwaway, and in the post I mentioned being a gay guy who was..." he trailed off and sighed. "Who was raped by another guy," he whispered, struggling with the word, before continuing, "and how I hoped it wouldn't affect any future relationships. I didn't expect the first comment to be someone calling me a dirty queer and saying they hoped the experience turned me straight." He looked over at Rich and shrugged.

Rich leaned his head against Michael's shoulder, sighing. "Well whoever said that is a f*cking asshole. I can't believe you went through that. I can't believe that's actually something that happened to you. I'm so, so, sorry that that happened. You don't deserve that."

Michael listened to Rich's words, nodding. "But," he hesitated. "Was I overreacting by taking so much time off school? People have been through worse, and it was just one thing, so was I overreacting I think."

Rich shook his head. "You definitely weren't. What that... monster did to you was completely unforgivable. It's one of the worst things you can do to someone, in my opinion."

Michael nodded, absent-mindedly starting to play with Rich's hair, making him go all flustered and red again. Michael didn't seem to notice Rich's red face, and if he did, he didn't point it out. "That redditor was wrong, too. I'm definitely still into guys."

Rich nodded. "Yeah, I don't think sexuality works that way," Rich replied. "Because if it did, I'd have had the gay beaten out of me as soon as I could walk."

Michael looked concerned, his arm still tightly around Rich. "What's home like?" he asked.

Rich sighed and said nothing.

"Bad?" Michael asked, not surprised when Rich gave him a short, quick nod.

"It didn't used to be bad. I had my mom, and my dad was still a major asshole, but my mom always shut down everything sh*tty he said. Then she y'know, kicked the bucket, and my dad lost his mind."

Michael listened carefully, running his fingers through Rich's hair. "Can I tell you something?" He asked, pulling Rich closer when he nodded. "My parents-" he stopped himself. "My biological parents were honestly pretty great at the start of my life. They cared about me, they made sure I was okay, and they never really expressed any strong views. They were strict, though. I always had to be home early, all work had to be perfect, and they were allowed to go through my phone or my laptop whenever they wanted to. I thought it was fair, and I had no idea how controlling it was. Especially the phone part. That was what made everything go wrong. I had a boyfriend for a while, the only person I've ever dated, and it was entirely online, we lived too far apart to meet up in real life. We would message a lot, but one day, he broke it off with me. I was crying. I was just sitting at my desk, my head in my hands, and sobbing," He explained, shaking, trying to distract himself a bit by playing with Rich's hair. "And my mom heard me. She walked in, took one look at the screen, and started screaming at me. She didn't care that I was upset, she didn't care that I'd just been through a breakup, she only cared that it was a guy."

Rich sighed shakily, Michael's arm around him, his head on Michael's shoulder. "I'm so sorry..." he whispered. "That must have been so sh*tty."

"That's why I'm in foster care now. The system sucks, too. I'm lucky it ended up working out this well, with Catherine and Vivian. Every other house I stayed in sucked. I guess, what I'm trying to tell you, is that your family aren't the people who are related to you. They're the people who take the time to look after you, and love you no matter what differences you have," he explained. "And sometimes they take time to find, but you'll get there. I missed my bio parents at first, but I honestly don't think about them that much now. They're better off without me, and I'm better off without them," he explained to Rich. "And that makes me think your dad isn't really your family."

Rich kept listening, mostly just hung up on the fact that he couldn't imagine anyone being better off without Michael Mell in their life. "I'm happy you found somewhere you feel better," he told him, hating himself for not being able to say more.

"You wanna know something else?" He asked.

Rich nodded, looking up at Michael again, making eye contact.

"I thought I was incapable of feeling anything romantically again, after that. I'd been broken up with, I'd just been kicked out by my parents and thrown in a confusing system I didn't understand. I stopped feeling attraction to anyone. That's changed recently. I think I might actually be capable of liking someone again," he whispered, looking into Rich's eyes. "It's a recent feeling, but it's sticking around."

Rich started to feel disappointed, wondering who the lucky person Michael was interested in was. "Who is it?"

"Someone too good for me. I know I'm not worth dating. Especially not after this happened. Nobody would want to date someone who's just gone through this sh*t."

"If someone doesn't date you because of that, then that's their loss," Rich replied immediately, still mostly holding eye contact.

Michael gave Rich a smile. This wasn't a small, soft smile like Rich had seen from Michael before. It was wide, it was genuine, and it was beautiful. Michael's eyes crinkled up at the corners, his nose wrinkling slightly. He had dimples, too. Cute dimples that showed his genuine happiness. It was the best smile Rich had ever seen. "Thank you," Michael replied to Rich's comment, seeming to subconsciously pull Rich closer.

Rich smiled back, looking down nervously. "I really like your smile," he told Michael. "It's cute."

Michael gave a slightly awkward laugh. "Thanks, but yours is cuter," he replied, before noticing faded bloodstains on the hoodie Rich had borrowed. "Do you want another hoodie?" he asked.

Rich shook his head. "I'm not taking anything else from you."

"Okay, what if I just lend you one instead? You can give it back soon."

Rich considered this for a second, before nodding. "Okay."

He nodded. "Let me go and get one for you."

Rich shook his head again. "Let me get it, I don't want to be an inconvenience."

"You're not, but if you want to get it, that's okay. It'll be downstairs in the dryer, probably still warm. It's a red hoodie, and it's got lots of patches on it. It's my favourite. It always makes me feel better even when I'm already having a good day."

Rich nodded, pulling away from Michael's arm, going downstairs to find it, walking past Catherine and Vivian and giving them a quick wave, before walking through to the small laundry room, going over to the dryer, finding the red hoodie Michael was talking about. He pulled it out, smiling as he realised it was still warm, swapping it for the navy blue one he was wearing and putting that one with other dirty clothes. He looked in the mirror and beamed, seeing the oversized hoodie on his small body. He started to walk back upstairs, before being stopped by Vivian. "Hey, Rich, can we talk?" she asked.

He nodded, following her through to the study so they could talk in private. "I'm going to be blunt with you here, Rich, do you mind telling me why you end up in the emergency room so often?"

Rich shook his head, looking panicked. "No, I'm not saying."

She passed him a pillow, remembering how he always seemed to want something to hug, relieved when Rich took it and hugged it close. "What's your home like life?"

Rich buried his face in the pillow and stayed silent.

Vivian sighed. "I'll be able to help you out if you tell me, okay?"

"Just ask Michael."

She shook her head. "I need to hear it directly from you, honey." She kept talking to him, as her wife finished making the food for Rich and Michael to eat, carrying the plates upstairs.

Catherine knocked on Michael's bedroom door, a glowing smile on her face when she heard a chipper "Come in!"

"You seem happier!" She told Michael, putting the plates down on Michael's desk. "Did you miss talking to Rich? You seemed to."

Michael nodded, turning slightly red and letting out an awkward laugh.

She let out a teasing "Ooh," sound, realising. "So, Rich, huh?" she asked, raising one eyebrow.

Michael blushed a deep red. "Mom, don't be embarassing!"

Catherine froze, dropping the cutlery in her hand, before bending down and quickly scrambling to pick it up. "Sorry, you just caught me off guard there," she said, letting out a slight laugh, her heart racing.

"What?" Michael asked, confused.

She looked up at him, a look of shock on her face. "You called me Mom."

Chapter 22: Safe

Chapter Text

Michael realised, and his face burst into a wide smile. He couldn't help but stand up, run over and hug her, smiling. He hadn't even thought about what he was saying, it just seemed normal, and it just seemed right.

Catherine hugged him back, tearing up slightly, always one to get emotional when something meaningful happened. "I'm so happy," she whispered, holding Michael tight. She didn't know if she'd ever get to the point where he thought of her as a parent, let alone so quickly. She pulled away from the hug, standing up on her tiptoes to kiss Michael's forehead, as she was a lot shorter than him.

Michael smiled and sat down on the bed. "I guess, with everything that happened, I've just felt way closer to you guys. Nobody else who 'took care of me'," he said, doing air quotes, "would have looked after me like you guys did, and, as I told Rich, family has nothing to do with who you're related to. It's who cares about you and looks after you even when things are difficult."

Catherine quickly wiped away a tear that was rolling down her cheek, smiling and nodding. "I wish we could have helped you earlier. As soon as we heard about you and the situation you were in, being kicked out of every place you stayed for feelings and emotions you couldn't control, and because of your sexuality, we knew we just wanted to make you feel accepted, and to make you feel loved. It was wrong of them to expect you to just immediately go with everything they wanted. Of course your mental health would be suffering, they should know that with how many people they've looked after." She took both of Michael's hands in hers, smiling at him.

He squeezed her hands. "Sorry, it must have been so scary last week when I was gone for a few hours and came back struggling to breathe. Sorry it took me so long to explain what happened. I should have told you right away, instead of waiting until the next day," He whispered, before taking a breath to continue.

"Shh," She cut in. "Don't apologise. You went through something bad that day, Micha, you take your time with anything you need to tell us, okay? We'll try to find him too, honey, we can't promise, but they've found some security camera footage with the whole incident," she told him.

Michael looked up nervously, still holding her hands for support, trying not to think about it too much. "Did you see what he looked like?" He whispered.

"I... couldn't watch it. I tried to, but I just couldn't stand to watch that happen to you. The camera had sound. Hearing you call out for help like that..." she shook her head, her voice cracking. "I just wanted to get home, run up to you and give you a hug. You were still in the no touching stage, though, which is completely understandable, honey. Obviously I wasn't going to make you uncomfortable."

Michael smiled as she stood up again. "I'd love to stay and chat, but I have a bit of work to do, okay?" she said.

He smiled and nodded, shuffling back on the bed after grabbing his food, waiting for Rich to get back up there so they could eat together, not wanting to start without him.

Michael remembered the moment, a few days after it happened, when he'd decided he needed Vivian and Catherine. They'd both been lying in bed together, and Michael did something he didn't expect himself to do. He'd walked down to their bedroom, knocking on the door, shuffling in with his eyes pointed at the floor when they said it was okay for him to come in. Wordlessly, he'd sat down on the end of the bed. He was shaking a lot, wearing his red hoodie, just sitting at the end of the bed.

"Do you need anything, honey?" Vivian had asked him, to which he silently lay down and wrapped his arms around her, before feeling Catherine hugging him from behind. For the first time in what must have been a few days, Michael had stopped shaking, them both cuddled up close to him, making sure he felt safe. They let him stay there all night, immediately there for him when he had a nightmare. He'd been having nightmares every night since it happened. He should probably warn Rich about that.

Speaking of Rich, where was he? It had been about ten minutes since Rich had gone downstairs, so Michael decided to investigate, putting the plate of food back down on the desk and walking down the stairs, putting his hand over his mouth when he heard the conversation.

"Honey, if you just tell me what's happening we can get you somewhere safe, okay?" Vivian whispered, difficult to be heard over the loud, hiccuping sobs that felt like they were breaking Michael's heart.

"No," Rich replied adamantly.

Michael took another step towards the door, before knocking.

"Come in," Vivian told him, her head in her hands from stress. "Rich, I've seen you in the hospital far too many times. I'm worried about you. Please, please tell me what's going on. I can assume, but I can't get you out of there on my own assumption, okay?"

"You treated Rich in the hospital?" Michael whispered, sitting down on the couch next to Rich.

Rich dropped the pillow he was hugging, before looking up at Michael, tears streaming down his face. Michael got the hint, wrapping his arms around Rich's shaking body.

Vivian nodded, still looking down. "I can't help him if he doesn't tell me what's happening, and he won't tell me," she whispered.

"Can you tell her?" Michael asked Rich. His voice was so soft, so caring, having a comforting sound to it, sad when Rich shook his head. "Why not?"

"Because it's nothing. I deserve to be there anyway," He whispered.

Vivian sighed. "Michael, is it okay if I leave him with you? He trusts you a lot, and he's clearly panicking a lot right now, I'm sorry."

Michael nodded. "That's okay, mom. I can try to help."

Vivian covered a smile, putting her hand over her mouth and walking out the room to Catherine.

"He just... oh my god..." she whispered.

"Called you mom?" Catherine asked, smiling.

Vivian nodded, running forward to embrace her wife.

Michael rubbed Rich's back until he'd stopped sobbing so much. "Do you want to go back up to my bedroom?" he asked. Rich nodded, standing up shakily. Michael held his hand as he led Rich upstairs. Rich kept his head down, embarrassed by his breakdown and panicking from Michael holding his hand.

Once they got back up to the bedroom, Michael led him over to the bed, lying down and hugging him close, moving so that Rich's head was against his chest, playing with his hair.

Rich let out another soft sob, listening to Michael's heartbeat. "Why are you so nice to me?" he whispered, his voice cracking.

"Because you deserve it, Rich. You need someone who can always be there for you. I want you to feel better." He sighed, trying to bring something up without making Rich more upset. "I know those lines on your arms weren't just scratches. You know I know that. I'm obviously not going to judge you for it, but how about we make an agreement? Any time you think about that, or do something like that, you call me. I don't care if it's four in the morning, or if I'm busy, it's important, okay?"

Rich considered it, before nodding. "If you ever need someone to talk to I'm there, okay?"

"Okay," Michael replied, holding Rich closer. "Do you wanna eat? Catherine's really good at cooking."

Rich nodded, wiping his eyes and sitting up, smiling when Michael passed him a plate. He ate in silence, finishing his food quickly and putting the plate back on the desk, barely even thinking as he leaned over and wrapped his arm around Michael again, resting his head on Michael's chest.

Michael felt his heart speed up, his nonchalant demeanour fading from Rich's actions. Michael couldn't help but think he was adorable, holding him close. "I'm sure you can stay here longer than just one night, you know," Michael offered.

Rich shook his head. "I'll go home after school tomorrow. It's fine."

Michael sighed, deciding not to argue, playing with Rich's hair, worried about him.

Rich started to fall asleep, despite it being quite early on in the evening. He always struggled to sleep at his own house, terrified at every moment, and he was too worried about Michael to sleep when he was at Natalie's. He felt safe here. He felt protected by Michael, and by Michael's moms. He felt okay. For once in his life, he felt okay.

He fell asleep, his head on Michael's chest, Michael playing with his hair. Rich was so warm, cuddled up close to him, asleep. He looked adorable. Michael knew he'd accepted it now.

He was completely in love with Rich Goranski.

Chapter 23: Forgive

Chapter Text

Michael didn't sleep, sitting there silently and playing with Rich's hair, feeling calmer than he had in a very long time. It was still too early to sleep. He wasn't going to move too much, though, not wanting to risk waking Rich up. He picked his phone up in his free hand, scrolling down to Jeremy's contact on his phone and sending him a text.

M: Hey, Jere, we cool?

J: Yea, I talked to Jake and he's calmed down a bit about everything that happened.

M: Is he still mad at Rich?

J: Obviously. What Rich said was f*cked up.

M: He didn't mean it.

J: How do you know?

M: He explained. His dad is really hom*ophobic and has like, pretty bad anger issues and stuff and Rich picked up on that, but that's not what he thinks.

J: You're too forgiving sometimes

M: I don't think so. I think just based off things that have happened I like giving people the benefit of the doubt with things like this.

J: Are you sure he's telling the truth about not being hom*ophobic?

M: I'm sure.

J: How do you know?

M: I can't say.

J: Oh sh*t Rich isn't straight is he?

M: It's not my place to share that, so keep quiet about it, okay? Also, can I admit something to you that you might judge me for.

J: Go for it

M: I think I like Rich.

J: !!!!!!!!!!!! It's been so long since you liked anyone !!!!!!!!!! dude that's progress !!!!
oh also

lmao gay

M: Shhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh don't judge me also yes it's very exiting to find out but I'm pretty sure he doesn't like me

J: Now that you mention him not being straight I'm like 99.9% sure he likes you

M: wdym

J: Have you not seen how he looks at you? I thought it was like,,, admiration for you helping him but he likes you !!! Can I tell Jake so we can ship it together pleaseeeeeeeeee

M: Isn't he mad at Rich though?

J: For getting mad at me? Not any more. For saying what he said? A bit but I think if I explain Jake will forgive him?

M: Fine, as long as he promises not to tell anyone.

J: Jake says "rich is a dick but to be fair he is cute"

M: He's SO cute and also he's not a dick. He's genuinely so soft and adorable.

J: I just explained it to Jake and he said he kind of feels bad. He knows what sh*t's like for Rich at home so it seems fair that Rich would think kinda badly.

M: It is fair. He deserves so much better. I think he doesn't sleep much, either. Explains why he fell asleep on me so fast.

J: KSAKHDSKAFHJKFHKJDFHJFGKJFGDHGF
a s l e e p
ON you ??

M: :)

J: SEND A PICTURE MY GAY HEART CAN'T TAKE IT

Michael quickly took a picture, his face cut out at the top, Rich asleep on Michael's chest, wearing his hoodie. The hood was covering most of his face, but his messy hair was still visible. He had both his arms wrapped tightly around Michael's torso, looking peaceful. He sent it to Jeremy, a smile on his face.

J: And you think he's not into you ???
my dude
my friend
my bro
my bestest buddy wud
that's pretty f*cking gay

M: He's so cute I can't handle it

J: I'll leave you to it ;) also i have to go now anyway i have bf duties

M: What do you mean bf duties

J: ;))))))))

M: You're a horny ass bitch jere, you always have been. have fun.

Michael smiled, putting his phone down, shifting slightly so he could hold Rich tighter. He felt his heart leap slightly when Rich shifted, moving his head from Michael's chest to his shoulder. Instinctively, Michael turned his head and kissed the top of Rich's head. After so long of not being attracted to anyone, the feeling of holding Rich like this was almost indescribable. It felt like every part of his body was filled with butterflies. It was a cliche description, but things become cliche for a reason.

He would feel bad if Rich wanted to date him, though. He didn't think he was worth dating at all. He would just panic over the tiniest thing, even if it was as small as being touched without expecting it. Anything remotely sexual was completely off the table for god knows how long, he had nightmares almost every single night now, and he was a complete emotional mess. He still cut, but only his moms knew that. Rich had enough to worry about already.

He let thoughts keep running through his head, lying there motionlessly until he felt Rich move, his eyes fluttering open. "Hm?" he mumbled, tensing up, before seeming to relax slightly when he realised where he was. "Oh, hey Michael. How long did I sleep for?"

Michael checked his phone. "Not long, about an hour," he told him. "It's 8pm."

"Sorry for falling asleep on you," he replied, yawning.

Michael smiled. "It's okay, it was quite sweet, actually."

Rich blushed and smiled, his eyes and nose both crinkling up. "I doubt that."

Michael shrugged. "You're pretty cute, okay?"

Rich looked down and laughed awkwardly, unsure of what to say.

Michael decided to try and make some kind of move, seeing Rich's blushing. He wasn't sure what, though.

"Hey, so, I was wondering, you know, because we're sharing a bed, and you seemed really peaceful sleeping on me, if you wanted to cuddle tonight?" He offered awkwardly.

Rich grinned, nodding.

"Do you wanna borrow some pyjamas or something? I don't have any clothes that will fit you for tomorrow, so we can get Catherine and Vivian to wash the ones you're wearing now ready for tomorrow. It's fine if pyjamas don't fit, though." Rich nodded, still clearly tired. "I'll pick some out for you," he told Rich, standing up, his heart jumping slightly when he noticed something. Rich almost seemed... disappointed when Michael pulled away from the hug.

He picked out a long sleeved shirt, knowing Rich would probably want to cover his arms because of the bandages, along with a pair of sweatpants. He didn't really have any old clothes, or anything that small, as his moms had bought him a whole new wardrobe full of clothes once he'd moved in, so everything was gonna be massive on Rich. Michael was about 5'11, maybe pushing six feet tall. Rich was barely 5'5. He passed the clothes over to Rich, and got some out for himself, before leaving the room and getting changed in the bathroom to give Rich some privacy.

When he went back in, he had to stop himself physically squealing from how cute Rich looked. Rich had rolled up the pants at the bottom because of how huge they were, and the sleeves of the shirt covered his hands. He'd pushed the sleeves up, scrolling through what looked like a very damaged, quite cheap looking phone.

Michael smiled and sat down next to him. "Wanna play video games?" he asked.

Rich smiled and nodded. "f*ck yeah," he replied, putting his phone down and doing finger guns with a slightly nervous sounding laugh.

Michael grinned, passing Rich a controller and taking one for himself. "We're playing Mario Kart, because I don't currently have the brainpower for anything any more difficult."

Rich nodded, leaning his head on Michael's shoulder. Michael seemed to like hugs a lot, and who was Rich to say no to that? Yeah, Michael probably didn't mean anything romantic by it, but Rich would happily take what he could get.

They played for a while, Rich seeming to subconsciously move closer, barely even realising he was now half on Michael's lap. He only noticed when Michael shifted, making Rich end up fully sat on him. Rich turned bright red, nervous.

"Is this okay?" Michael asked, knowing more than anyone else he knew that this might be making Rich uncomfortable. Rich nodded, his face red, too flustered to speak.

Michael smiled, putting his arms around Rich's body and continuing to play. Okay, Rich definitely wasn't interested. Michael was making some pretty strong advances, and Rich seemed to be completely ignoring it or treating it like it was fully platonic. He wasn't making any moves in return, just kind of accepting whatever Michael did.

Michael always used to have a problem of just saying what was on his mind. It would bubble under the surface until he couldn't resist, and then he'd just blurt it out. It led to him getting in a lot of trouble, and a lot of close calls in terms of trying to hide that he was gay from his parents. He felt that familiar bubbling, of words wanting to be said, his brain encouraging him to say them.

Rich moved over a bit, now leaning back on Michael, using his shoulder as a pillow, still sitting on his lap.

The words seemed to be even stronger in his mind, doing his best to focus on the game rather than say them out loud.

Once the round was over, Rich put down the controller, smiling. "Good game. You're really good at that, I had no chance."

Oh f*ck, Rich's smile. The words just kept on trying to rise to the surface, so he just kept his mouth shut.

"Are you okay?" Rich asked Michael.

Michael knew he couldn't wait any longer, understanding that this was something that could completely ruin his and Rich's friendship, and make Rich feel like he had to go home, which was the last thing Michael wanted, still, like a shaken up soda can, the words were rising, and Rich's adorable smile had just opened the can.

Before he could stop himself, he blurted out four words. "I like you, Rich."

Chapter 24: Reason

Chapter Text

Rich's face quickly turned a deep shade of red, as his mouth dropped open in surprise. "What do you mean?" He asked.

"I like, like you Rich. Y'know, in that way," he mumbled, already regretting what he said. "I'm sorry, I shouldn't have said anything."

Rich was in complete shock, not sure what to say, his face dark red as he stammered something unintelligible.

If Rich wasn't on his lap, Michael would have run to hide in a different room, and likely break down to his moms, but Rich was sitting there, showing absolutely no signs of moving, completely frozen in place.

"I've f*cked up, haven't I?" Michael whispered, starting to shake.

What Michael said finally started to register in Rich's mind, and a small smile spread on his face. "Really?" he whispered. "Even after how much of a dick I used to be and how much of an inconvenience I am?"

"I really like you, Rich. You've made mistakes in the past, but you deserve to be forgiven. You're not an inconvenience, either. I've really liked being able to get to know you," he mumbled, feeling a bit relieved that Rich seemed to be smiling.

"I... like you too..." Rich whispered. "You're actually the reason I figured out I'm not straight," he admitted, letting out a slight nervous laugh.

Michael felt a rush of happiness, sitting up more, Rich still in his lap. "You do?" He asked, shocked.

Rich nodded sheepishly, "Yeah," he mumbled.

"Why?" Michael replied quickly, not understanding why anyone would like him.

"Why wouldn't I? You're kind, you're the most caring person I've ever met, you're forgiving, and, you know, also very cute," Rich told him, his words seeming nervous and awkward.

Michael smiled wide, his eyes crinkling. "So, what now? Do we go on a date or something?" he asked.

"I think so," Rich replied. "I don't know. I'm not the most experienced with relationships."

"I think we're already making a good start with you on my lap," he replied. "Is it okay if we keep this a bit quiet at school? I know nobody would mind too much, but I'm just... used to negativity with it," he mumbled. "We can tell Jeremy though."

"But he hates me," Rich replied, getting off Michael's lap, still annoyed at himself for that comment.

"I don't think he hates you. You made a mistake, and he recognises that, but I told him it wasn't your fault, and he believes me. I was texting him when you were asleep," Michael explained.

"What about Jake?" Rich asked.

"I don't think Jake's mad at you. Jeremy said he'd try to convince Jake not to be."

Rich nodded, still nervous, glancing over as his phone screen lit up. His face fell, and he started to shake.

"What is it?" Michael asked, worried, hugging Rich close, looking over his shoulder at his phone. "Oh, f*ck."

Rich held back tears, covering his mouth. Dustin Kropp, someone he never really got along with but knew from his time trying to be popular, had just sent him a picture.

The picture was of him asleep on Michael, wearing Michael's hoodie.

D: Is that u? r u a queer?

Rich ignored the message, putting his phone back down.

D: Dillinger says ur a queer even tho u hate gay ppl

He sighed, knowing he had to respond.

R: I don't hate gay people

D: So y did u call dillinger a fa*g

R: because my dad treats me like sh*t and used to call me that all the time, shut the f*ck up now.

D: so it's true ur a queer?

R: i'm bi

D: so ur gay?

R: no, i'm bi

D: lmao whats the difference

Rich rolled his eyes, putting his phone down and ignoring the messages. "Jake told people," he mumbled. "Jake sent everyone that picture of us."

"I'm sorry, you didn't give me permission to take that picture, I shouldn't have done that," Michael apologised quickly.

"No, it's okay, it's cute. Sending it to Jeremy was fine too. I just didn't realise Jake would be such a dick about it."

Michael sighed, not sure what to do apart from hug Rich close, until he stopped shaking.

After a few minutes of Michael cuddling him, he saw his phone screen light up. Jeremy was calling him. He answered nervously, putting the phone on speaker.

"Oh f*ck, Michael, I'm so sorry, I had no idea it would get spread around that fast," Jeremy said. It sounded almost like he was... crying?

"Did Jake share it?" Michael asked, rubbing Rich's back.

"Come on Jeremy! Please don't do this!" Michael heard Jake's voice in the background. Jake was obviously sobbing, wiping his eyes. "Jeremy please!" He begged.

Jeremy let out an annoyed sigh. "f*ck off, Jake. I can't with this any more. I love you, but I don't love the way you treat anyone who isn't me. Just... sort your own sh*t out, stop being a dick," He growled, before bringing the phone up to his ear again, speaking to Michael. "Is Rich with you? Can you tell him I'm sorry?"

"It's okay," Rich whispered, his voice quiet and raspy.

Michael held him close, wanting him to feel okay.

Jeremy sighed. "God, that was so f*cked up," he spoke down the phone, Jake's sobs becoming more distant, and with a final noise that sounded like a door shutting, they were gone.

"You broke up with Jake?" Michael asked softly.

Jeremy hesitated. "Yeah. I didn't want to... and I miss him already, but f*ck, you can't just do that sh*t. I thought he'd be supportive, but because he's so popular, he doesn't have to deal with any sh*t when he comes out. People just accept it. They haven't done that for you, and that's unfair. It shouldn't be anyone else's choice when you come out. It's not even a romantic picture, like you said. It was platonic."

"Well..." Michael said, before hesitating.

"Not platonic?" Jeremy asked.

"Yeah," Michael said, his voice breathy. Rich cuddled up closer to him. "Turns out we both like each other."

Jeremy's tone lifted slightly. "Told you," he said to Michael, before his voice flattened again. "Look, I'm gonna go. I think I just need to... get stoned in my bedroom while crying and staring at the ceiling, or some sh*t like that. I'm happy for you guys, I just don't want to think about relationships right now."

Michael put his phone down after Jeremy hung up.

"They broke up because of me..." Rich whispered, blaming himself as he normally did.

"No, Rich. They broke up because of Jake," he told him, lying down in bed, wrapping his arms tightly around Rich, cuddling him close.

Rich nodded, trying to stay calm.

Michael pressed a hesitant kiss to Rich's forehead, smiling when he saw Rich smile.

"You're the best. I can't believe you actually like me," he whispered. "Should we go on a date tomorrow?" He asked.

Michael nodded. "Arcade?" He offered, playing with Rich's hair, messing up the red stripe.

Rich beamed, calming down. "Sounds like a plan."

Rich was terrified for the next day, knowing that picture will have spread like wildfire, especially in Jenna and Dustin's hands. If those two knew something, everyone knew something. Still, he felt comforted by the idea that Michael would be there for him. Michael couldn't be described as anything other than a comforting person, with a soft, smooth speaking voice, and warm hugs that instantly calmed Rich down.

"You know what I'm thinking?" Rich asked softly. "What if I never decided to go to that playground when I was sad?" He asked. "What if I just... stayed at home? I'd be in such a bad place right now."

Michael shook his head. "Don't think about it. It's not worth thinking about what might have happened, when we know what did happen. I know it's not true, but I like to think everything happens for a reason. I moved away from strict parents and ended up with amazing ones. Something bad happened last week, but now I'm closer with my moms. I made an offhanded decision to leave a hoodie out for someone, and now I have a..." he hesitated. He couldn't say new friend, that wasn't enough, but he couldn't say boyfriend, because that was too much.

"Love interest?" Rich joked, making Michael smile.

"Yeah, mutual love interest," he replied, his arms around Rich's torso.

"I don't know if I want to think that. I don't like thinking my mom died for a reason..." he whispered. "I like to think it was just some cruel act of life. Maybe so that I don't blame myself."

"Why would you blame yourself?"

"Because of how she died. I was 8 years old, and I was being taught a board game by Natalie, and she had a candle in the room with us to make everything look nice, and I knocked it over. The house went up in flames. Natalie wasn't able to get me, because she had to jump out the window. I would have died, but mom went in to save me. I was completely unconscious, and she passed out right after she got outside. Neither of us were breathing, and the medics prioritised me over her in terms of who to save. That's why I've got... y'know," he said, gesturing to his scars. He didn't get emotional telling this story, just quiet, like he was blocking it out.

"Rich, that was not your fault. It was an accident. It could have happened to anyone," Michael reassured him. "I promise."

"Okay," Rich whispered, nodding. "I know the scars are ugly, too, I'm sorry."

Michael shook his head. "I actually think they're really interesting. In a good way, of course. Makes you stand out."

Rich nodded, yawning, listening to Michael's soft words.

Michael checked the time and saw it was 11pm, so decided to sleep, wrapping his arms around Rich, placing another kiss on his forehead, switching out the lamp next to his bed.

Rich cuddled up close and fell asleep quickly, Michael following soon after.

For the first time since the incident, Michael slept though the whole night.

Chapter 25: Proud

Chapter Text

Rich was slightly confused when he woke up to the alarm beeping, before remembering that he was at Michael’s house, smiling as he felt Michael’s arms tightly around him. Michael let out a low, annoyed groan at the alarm sound, his grip tightening even more on Rich.

“I don’t wanna move,” he complained, sighing. “I’m comfy here. I just wanna skip school and go to the arcade with you.”

“As much as I’d love that, Michael, my grades are almost as low as my self esteem, so I really need to try. Anyway, we have a couple of periods together today, so that’ll be nice,” Rich told him, not pulling back, smiling when Michael tightened his grip around him.

Michael nodded, tilting his head down and kissing the top of Rich’s head. He wasn’t really ready for much more than that, yet, but he knew he would be eventually, and he knew Rich liked the small, soft demonstrations of affection that he could give. “I’m sorry, Richie, but we’re gonna have to move now,” Michael sighed.

Rich groaned but pulled away from the hug, sitting up, rubbing his eyes. Michael saw, and hid his smile behind his hand, thinking Rich was pretty much the cutest human possible at this point. He got out of bed, putting on his glasses, before surprising Rich with a kiss on his cheek, grinning when he saw Rich blush slightly pink. “I’ll go get your clothes, mom washed them,” he said, before leaving the room, getting Rich’s clothes out the dryer.

Rich looked around Michael’s room, smiling when he noticed the corner of something sticking out of a drawer, getting up and seeing colourful fabric. He opened the desk drawer, smiling wide when he saw a pride flag, getting it out. Underneath the flag were a large collection of pencils and pens, and a sketchbook. Rich decided not to be nosy, closing the drawer, sitting back down on the bed with the pride flag in his hands.

There was something that felt so insanely validating about being able to hold the flag in his hands, and just know that it was okay, after years of denial. He was finally at the point where instead of seeing the flag and feeling angry and ashamed, he felt accepted. He smiled, tracing his hand over the stitching between each colour. This was clearly really well made, and seemed expensive. It didn’t feel cheaply printed, or scratchy. The fabric felt heavy and soft, and it almost looked like the whole thing had been handmade. He felt his hand trace over some bumps, looking to what it was and seeing smooth, white embroidery.
‘Proud,’ it simply stated, with a tiny ‘V, C & M’ stitched underneath.

Vivian, Catherine, and Michael. It must have been given to Michael as a gift when he moved in, to show he was now part of them. It hadn’t jumped the gun by calling him family, or anything like that, but simply showed he was accepted, and allowed to be himself.
“Nice, isn’t it?”
Rich jumped slightly when he heard an unexpected voice, smiling when he realised Michael was back. “It’s really nice,” he said softly.
“I still need to put that up somewhere,” he said softly. “Where did you find it?”

“It was sticking out of that desk drawer. Sorry if I was being too nosy by looking,” he mumbled.

Michael shook his head, sitting down on the bed next to him. “It’s okay, don’t worry about it,” he replied. “But, just checking, did you look at anything else in there?” He had some drawings that would definitely be considered concerning, especially as he used drawing to express the emotions he couldn’t explain in words, and there were a lot of heavy black lines and scribbles.
“No, I didn’t want to invade your privacy. I just got the flag out,” He told him.

Michael smiled, giving Rich a quick hug, before standing up again. He went over to his drawers and quickly got some clothes out. “I’ll give you some space to get ready, I’ll be back in a few minutes, okay?” He said, before leaving the room and making his way to the bathroom.

Rich nodded, looking back through the exact same clothes he’d worn the day before, sighing and quickly getting changed, panicking a bit when he realised Michael had taken the red hoodie, and the hoodie Michael had let him keep was still downstairs with the rest of the laundry. The bloodstains hadn’t all come out on the first wash, so it needed to be cleaned again.

He nervously looked in the mirror, hating seeing the bandages around his arms and hands, sighing as he quickly tried to style his hair.

Michael walked back in, seeing Rich’s slightly upset demeanor and realising something. “Oh sh*t, I didn’t give you a hoodie, did I?” He said, going back over to his closet. He found a black one that he’d worn a lot when he first moved, that was incredibly soft and comforting. It was the sort of hoodie that made you feel like you were being hugged by it. He passed it over to Rich, who smiled once he had it on, pulling the hood up.
“Come on, let’s get some breakfast, okay?” Michael said, offering out his hand for Rich to take. Rich smiled, taking Michael’s hand in his bandaged one, his knuckles still hurting a bit but him not caring.
Michael led him downstairs, holding his hand.

Catherine was cooking, as she normally did, Vivian quickly eating a couple of slices of toast. She saw Michael and Rich, and her eyes travelled down to their clasped together hands, a small smile appearing on her face. She didn’t want to make assumptions, in case it was a support thing for the other person, but she’d had a suspicion they liked each other since the first time Rich visited.
“Are you…?” She mouthed silently at Michael, before quickly pointing between him and Rich, smiling brightly when Michael gave her a very quick nod, smiling back. Rich, not noticing the interaction, leaned against Michael, still tired. Vivian covered her mouth to hide a smile, before finishing her quick breakfast and putting her plate by the sink.
“Bye, babe,” She cooed at Catherine, kissing her cheek, before heading out the door.

“Bye, honey,” Catherine replied, smiling back, before turning to Michael and Rich and gasping, unable to hide her surprise or happiness, seeing Rich holding Michael’s hand, cuddled up to his arm. “Are you two dating?” She teased, beaming.

Michael gave her an awkward smile, nodding. “We… kind of talked about it yesterday because I told him I like him, and we’re going to the arcade later today.”

“I’m so happy for you!” She gushed, taking a step forward before realising something and stopping herself. “Can I hug you both?” she asked.

Michael nodded, before looking down at Rich for approval, who nodded too. Catherine wrapped them both in a tight group hug, before going back to her cooking. “That’s so cute. I know you’ve been struggling, Micha, especially with how you were treated for being gay, and I’m proud of you.”

Michael looked down at Rich, before hesitating. “Can I tell her?” He mouthed. “About what happened with you?”
Rich nodded, gripping Michael’s hand tighter.

“I don’t deserve for you to be proud of me as much as Rich does. He grew up hearing nothing but extreme hom*ophobia, and being… well… hurt for acting anything not considered masculine.”
Rich hid his face in Michael’s shoulder, nervous about what Catherine would say to that.

As much as she wanted to ask further, so they’d be able to help Rich, she knew now wasn’t the time. Instead, she just put her hand on Rich’s shoulder, and smiled at him. “Well, I’m proud of you too, sweetie,” she said softly.

Michael smiled and led Rich over to the table, sitting down.
Catherine brought over two plates of food for them, giving them a quick smile. “So, can I talk to you both about this?”

“Again, mom, don’t be embarrassing,” Michael joked, smiling.

She smiled back, but there seemed to be something else behind it. “If anyone gives you hell for being yourself, don’t stand for it, unless you’re in danger. If you’re in danger, you get out of there, okay?”

Michael looked worried. “What do you mean, danger?”

She hesitated. “Look, I know it’s a more accepting time now, but when I first started dating Vivian, we got a lot of really horrible comments. When gay marriage was legalised in New Jersey, back in 2013, we were one of the first same-sex couples to get married. It was a pretty big event, especially in this city. There was a lot of controversy, and we received a lot of threats. Just… if you ever think you’re in danger, just call me, and talk to me. If you’re talking to someone over the phone, they’re less likely to actually try to hurt you. I hate that I have to tell you these things. I hate it so much. You’re just… not safe, please be careful.”

Rich listened, taking it all in and nodding, trying not to get too upset by it. “We’ll stay safe, it’s okay,” he whispered.

Catherine nodded. “Good. Don’t worry about it too much, it’s not very common any more, but you might need that advice at some point, and I’m not leaving you unprepared,” she told them, before getting up again, taking a phone call, going into a different room to talk.

Michael wrapped his arm protectively around Rich, wanting him to be safe even more than he wanted himself to be safe. “I’ll make sure nothing happens, I promise. Is it okay if I tell them more about how things are at home for you so we can help you out more?”
Rich hesitated, before shaking his head. “No,” he mumbled. “I’m only staying one more night, then I’ll go home.”

Michael sighed, not sure of what to do, deciding to just finish eating, and go back to cuddling Rich. “I don’t want you to do that. None of us want you to do that.”

Rich glanced down, picking at his food, not used to eating in the morning. “I want to do that.”

“Please don’t get yourself hurt,” he whispered. “Come on, let’s go, we need to think about something more positive. We’re going on a date later, remember? Think about that.”

Rich gave him a very small smile. “Yeah. I’m excited,” he replied. His voice was quiet, and his smile was weak, but he was completely genuine.

Chapter 26: Kiss

Chapter Text

They started to walk together, Rich’s hand still intertwined with Michael’s.

“So, I guess now that everyone knows we can be sort of open about it?” Michael asked. “Obviously not if you’re not comfortable with it, of course,” he quickly added on, squeezing Rich’s hand. “I won’t force you to do anything you’re not comfortable with.”

Rich nodded. “I’m okay with people knowing. Everyone knows I’ve changed, now. I feel like the bigger drama will be Jake and Jeremy’s breakup,” he joked. “Because everyone was talking about that when that happened. The most popular guy in school dating one of the nerds, and being super happy about it.”
Michael nodded. “True, but I wonder if people will even realise that.”

“Michael,” Rich started, smiling slightly. “Everyone is going to notice. They walk around the hallways completely inseparably, and have spent multiple free periods with their faces stuck together in the bathroom,” he explained.

Michael laughed slightly. “True. I hope Jeremy doesn’t get too many people being bitchy at him for it, considering he’s the one who initiated the breakup, and the less popular one.”

Rich nodded. “I think Jeremy did the right thing, but you can tell he really didn’t want to,” he replied with a soft sigh. “It sucks. They were a cute couple before Jake started treating everyone like sh*t. It was good for our school to have a gay couple with someone popular in it, there was no way people woud’ve been that accepting if it wasn’t Jake. If it was people more like… well… us?”

“But weren’t you popular?” Michael asked.

“I mean, I was a part of that group, but I never really felt included. I was pretty distant, and people didn’t like me that much because I was depressing to be around. I’m pretty sure the only reason they kept me around is because Jake felt bad for me. He invited me over a lot at first, but he kind of stopped doing that eventually. That’s when I started going to the playground when I was dealing with sh*t, and I’d just sit there. Nostalgia reasons, and things like that,” he explained, leaning his head against Michael.

Michael nodded, processing everything that he’d just been told, squeezing Rich’s hand. “That’s kinda sh*tty, to be honest, they should have tried to help you a bit more.”

“I wouldn’t have deserved it,” Rich replied simply.

Michael sighed, letting go of Rich’s hand and bending down slightly so they stood at the same height, cupping Rich’s chin in his hands. “Rich, you deserve everything good that could happen, okay? You went through something difficult, and you should have had people there for you,” He said, before quickly kissing the tip of Rich’s nose.

Michael had only let Rich know he was attracted to him for less than a day, but he already loved the way that all his tiny displays of affection left Rich blushing. It was the cutest thing he’d ever seen. He couldn’t help but smile, standing up to his normal height again.

“Thanks, Micha,” He said softly. “I appreciate it. Also, you’re so tall, it’s not fair. You had to bend down so much to be the same height as me. Being short sucks.”

“Being short is adorable!” Michael replied. “I’ve always preferred short guys, to be honest. I’ve liked the idea of having a boyfriend I can pick up and carry around. I think it’s the cutest thing.”

Rich grinned widely. “Boyfriend?” He said, raising one eyebrow.

“Why would I have told you I like you if that wasn’t where I planned on it ending up?” He joked, picking up that Rich didn’t seem too uncomfortable with the concept.

“I know we haven’t been on a date yet, but I wouldn’t mind being your boyfriend,” Rich mumbled softly, smiling.

Michael felt his heart skip a beat. “So… boyfriends?” he whispered.

Rich nodded, looking up and smiling as they continued to walk down the quiet path.

“Okay, so, before we turn here onto a busy road, is it okay if I kiss you?” Michael asked awkwardly.

Rich immediately nodded, looking up at him. Michael bent down nervously, having absolutely no experience with anything like this, his heart racing as their lips touched, his hand on the side of Rich’s face.

He pulled away, letting out a slightly nervous laugh, smiling down at Rich, before quickly going in for another kiss.

Rich smiled into the kiss, his hand on Michael’s arm, before pulling away, his face glowing from happiness.

They stayed looking into each other’s eyes for a few seconds, before Michael let out a slightly nervous chuckle. “So, uh, I guess we should keep walking now?” he asked, before hearing footsteps come up behind them. He flinched, ready to hear some kind of insult, but instead heard a familiar, sad voice.

“Hey,” Jeremy mumbled. “Can I walk with you guys?” He whispered. He sounded… broken. Like, the best friend Michael had always known but with the happiness completely sucked out of him. Rich took a step away from Michael, not wanting Jeremy to feel upset from seeing them together.

The walk to school felt quiet and tense, with Jeremy spending the whole thing staring at the ground, mumbling to himself.

“Why am I so sh*t with relationships? Christine didn’t want me, and I just dumped Jake because turns out he’s actually a dick,” Jeremy complained.

“You’ll find someone,” Michael reassured.

“It’s not as easy for me as it is for you. Everything didn’t just come together for me like some stupid f*cking fanfiction. I actually struggle with relationships. You know, like most people do,” He grumbled, before walking ahead of them.

“Don’t take it personally,” Rich said to Michael, taking his hand again and squeezing it.

“I won’t… I just want him to feel better,” he mumbled, making his way into the school.

The entire day felt surreal, with Michael and Rich noticing a strange amount of silence around them, people staring but not saying anything. At one point, Michael noticed Jake looking over. He wanted to glare at him, but Jake looked just… so sad. There was noticeable pain in his eyes every time Jeremy walked past, or was in the same class as him.

Both of them looked hurt and lonely, and like they clearly just wanted each other back, but Jeremy had made a bold decision, and he was sticking with it, defending his lifelong best friend instead of his now ex-boyfriend.

At the end of a long, weirdly quiet day, Rich was about to leave, Michael’s hand in his, before feeling someone tap his shoulder. He turned his head to see Jake there, and took a nervous step back. Michael wrapped his arm around Rich’s shoulder.

“What do you want, Jake?” Michael sighed, holding Rich close.

Jake hesitated. “I wanted to… apologise. I… can I admit something?” He asked.

Rich shrugged. “I guess, if you want to.”

Jake put his head in his hands, sighing, before looking back up. “I used to like you, Rich.”

Rich froze, before looking confused. “But you dated Jeremy?” He asked.

“Yeah, because he liked me and I thought he was cute… and then I stopped liking you, and I fell in love with Jere, but I guess part of me was still just jealous when Michael was the reason you realised you weren’t straight. I wanted it to be me.”

“Well you deserved Jeremy breaking up with you, then,” Michael told him, shaking his head.
Rich was completely quiet, more surprised than anything else.

“I know I deserved it, I know, but I still love him. I really do. I love him more than I ever loved any of my exes, and now he’s gone because I was being a dick. Is there any chance you think he’d ever take me back?” he whispered.

Michael sighed. “Probably,” he whispered. “But I’m not helping you. You have to figure it out yourself, okay?”

Rich gripped Michael’s hand tightly, wanting to leave.

Jake looked relieved. “You think there’s a chance he’ll take me back?” He asked, trying to think of a way to get him back.

Michael nodded. “Now can I leave? Rich and I kind of have a date planned,” He replied, walking away before he could get an answer. “Let’s drop our stuff off at home, then go to the arcade, okay?” He told Rich, starting to walk back home.

The walk back was quiet, but in a peaceful way, rather than an awkward one. They just allowed themselves to enjoy each other’s company, their fingers interlocked as they walked through the small, quiet paths. Despite Michael’s lack of relationship experience, and the recent attack against him, something about his and Rich’s hands together felt right, like they were meant to fit together.

Rich gave him a small, sweet smile as they walked up to the house, letting go of his hand so Michael could unlock the door. Michael led Rich up to his bedroom, smiling wide when he noticed something. A few bags of new clothes were on Michael’s bed, from a couple of different stores, along with a small note, saying that if Rich was going to be spending more time staying over, he’d need clothes to wear. Michael’s moms had decided that as soon as they could, they would sort out better accommodation for Rich, preferably their own house.

Rich started to look through, shaking. “This… I can’t accept this.”

Michael read out the note to him, specifically mentioning the bit where they said they threw away the receipt, so Rich couldn’t reject the offer. “My moms are great people. Do you wanna get changed into something else before we go out?” Michael asked.

Rich hesitated, before nodding, finding a really cute black space invaders sweater in the bag. “I guess they just got me stuff they thought you would like, because they don’t know me that well,” He replied, grinning. He picked it up, along with some black jeans, and got changed in the bathroom.

When he walked back in, Michael beamed, running forward to hug him, picking him up and spinning him around. “You’re so cute!” he said excitedly, before sitting down on the bed with him.

They cuddled up close together, Rich’s head on Michael’s shoulder, before Rich decided to try and make a move, not thinking it through properly.

He sprung forward and kissed Michael, the kiss being slightly rougher and more forceful than he’d anticipated, and in barely a second, he’d hit the floor, Michael reflexively shoving him away, starting to hyperventilate.

Rich felt like the sh*ttiest person in the world for doing that.

Chapter 27: Shatter

Notes:

AAAAA SORRY IT'S BEEN SO LONG I WAS VERY STRESSED!! DON'T WORRY I'VE NOT GIVEN UP ON THIS, AND I'M PLANNING TO UPDATE MORE (NOT EVERY DAY LIKE I'D PLANNED THOUGH SORRY)

Chapter Text

Michael had pulled his knees up to his chest, looking at Rich with an expression of fear, rocking back and forth.

Rich staggered up, struggling to breathe, his arm aching from where he hit the floor. “f*ck, f*ck, Michael I’m so sorry, f*ck, I’m so stupid, sh*t,” he mumbled, running his hand through his hair and tugging on it. He quickly glanced around, seeing his phone and his school bag and picking them up. “I’ll… I’ll just go,” he whispered, leaving the room before he could hear Michael’s very whispered ‘wait’. He ran down the stairs, heading straight for the door, shaking, his whole body consumed by guilt.

He left, walking back to his house as fast as he could. Who cares if he got hurt from his dad? He’d deserve it. What the f*ck was he thinking? He kissed a rape victim out of nowhere, of course he was gonna get pushed away. He’d be lucky if Michael didn’t hate him, let alone still liked him romantically, or even just as a friend.

He was relieved to see his bedroom window still open, climbing up the tree to get back into his room, hiding under the blankets on his bed, annoyed at himself. If his dad found him here he’d be dead meat, but that wasn’t his main concern right now.

Michael would be pissed. Jeremy would be pissed. He didn’t have Jake any more. There was nothing he felt like he could do. He simply pulled his knees up to his chest, curling in a tight ball, and sobbed roughly, his throat hurting. He finally had something good, and he’d just completely f*cked it up. He simply let the negative thoughts consume him, guilt through his whole body.

Michael was feeling similar, more and more guilty as his moms helped to calm him. “f*ck, he’s gonna be mad, he’s gonna be so mad at me for pushing him that hard,” he whispered, wiping his eyes.

“No, love,” Catherine whispered. “He’ll understand.”

“So why did he leave?” he choked out, digging his nails into his palms.

Vivian took both of Michael’s hands in hers, stopping him from hurting himself. “He probably thinks you’re mad at him,” She explained. “He doesn’t want to upset you.”

“Is he going home? He can’t go home! He’s not safe!” Michael said, panicking.

“He probably is. Try to see if you can find him and talk to him tomorrow, okay? Explain that you’re not mad, he probably understands why you reacted like that. See if you can find him at school tomorrow, and invite him over again,” Vivian told him, squeezing his hands, rubbing her thumbs over his palms in circles.

Michael nodded, taking quiet, hiccupping sobs. “I’ll try,” he whispered. “What if he hates me now?”

“He won’t, and if he does, he’s not worth your time. Even if he does, we’ll try to help him live in a better household, because nobody deserves what he has, but if he still feels the same about you as he does now, he can stay with us,” Catherine explained quietly.
Michael nodded. “He’s gonna get hurt,” he whispered. “His dad.”

“Do you want to call him?” Catherine asked. “Maybe you can convince him to come back?”

Michael nodded quickly, pressing Rich’s contact on his phone, holding back a sob as the number went straight to voicemail. He tried to send a text, saying he wasn’t mad and Rich should come back, but it didn’t go through.

He broke down again, sobbing roughly, just wanting to be able to hold Rich.

Rich was crying too, watching as his dad smashed his phone to pieces, sitting in silent fear. This was the punishment for him running away again. No contact with his friends. No contact with Natalie. He was only to leave the house to go to school, and he couldn’t tell anyone about this, or his dad would find some way to hurt him.
His dad held out the phone towards him, it being a completely shattered mess. Rich took it with his shaking hands. It was completely ruined, there was no way he could fix it, let alone get a new phone.

“Run away again, and that,” He tapped the shattered screen of the phone. “That will be you. Understand?”

He nodded quickly, staying silent.

“Do you understand?” He asked again, glaring.

“I understand,” He whispered, making sure not to lisp, as he normally did it more when he was scared.

“Good. Now I guess I should give you some food or something, so you don’t collapse like you did last month,” he sighed, disappearing to go downstairs. He returned a few minutes later with one of those cheap and tasteless microwave meals, and a plastic fork, putting them down on Rich’s desk, frowning when he noticed something. He put his finger down on the desk, swiping up some small pieces of tobacco. “Have you been smoking in here?”

Rich nodded. “Yes, but I paid for it,” He said quickly, lying.

“Really? Because, weirdly, I had one less cigarette in the packet before you f*cked off with Natalie.”

“That was ages ago, dad!” He defended.

“So you admit it?” He snapped.

Rich froze in place, not sure what to say, watching as his dad walked over, grabbing Rich by the collar, slapping him, before stepping back, as if what he’d just done was a completely normal thing to do. “You don’t get away with sh*t in my house,” he said coldly.

Rich nodded, standing up, picking up his food, taking a step towards the door.

“Where the hell are you going?” He growled at Rich.

“To… uh… to heat up my food?” He defended quietly.

His dad gave him a bitter, sarcastic laugh, before leaving the room and slamming the door in his face.

Rich sighed, sitting down on the bed, taking the plastic covering off the food and starting to eat. It was disgusting cold, but at least it was something, and that was more than he could normally say. He wanted to climb out the window and run back to Michael’s, but he knew Michael would be majorly pissed at him. He looked at the broken lump of metal and glass lying on his desk.

“Same,” he mumbled, laughing sarcastically at how sh*tty the situation was. “You and me both.”

It was like he’d lost the only thing that made him more like a normal teenager. He didn’t know what he could do now. Even though it was unlikely his dad would find out if he told people at school what had happened, he was still too scared. The threat was always there. He felt like hurting himself again, but something about Michael cleaning up his injuries, and the feeling of those tightly wound bandages compelled him to keep it together.

Michael likely didn’t care about him at all any more, but he could always pretend. He could hold out hope that there was still someone there for him. He’d not heard from Natalie at all, but that made sense. She’d been talking about cutting off her phone bill and internet connection to pay rent, and now she had a fine on top of that, because of being caught with Rich.

There was nobody he could go to. He felt trapped. He sighed, finding that old teddy bear he kept for support, tucking it under his arm, throwing away the food packaging.

He sat down in bed, not sure what to do. He had homework, but wasn’t in the right place mentally to focus on something like that. He just felt hopeless and lost.

He slowly stood up, deciding to do something he hadn’t done in a while. He slowly walked to Natalie’s bedroom, making sure his dad couldn’t hear him. He smiled at the familiar, pretty room, with its soft colours. He sat down on the bed, putting his teddy bear down next to the ones Natalie had kept in her room, mostly because Rich liked them.

When she lived there, there had often been nights where Rich had been hurt by his dad, and he would silently walk through to her bedroom once he’d recovered, and curl up in bed with her for support. It went on for as long as he’d lived there, and he’d always felt embarrassed by it. He was 14 when she’d left. What 14 year old slept in their sister’s bed for support? Yes, Natalie had been like a parent to him, but he was still embarrassed by how childish it was.

Still, he switched out the light, curling up in the fluffy blankets, using the teddy bears for comfort. Sleeping was difficult, as he had way too many thoughts on his mind. His cheek hurt, from where his dad had slapped him, directly over the faded bruise, and he still felt guilty for what he’d done to Michael. He sighed, burying his face in the pillow, finally drifting into a restless sleep.

Chapter 28: Puzzle

Notes:

(Sup. It's been a while. I'm still alive. I plan to finish this, eventually.)

Chapter Text

Michael felt a strange emptiness when he woke up the next morning, before remembering that he’d woken up with Rich in his arms the day before. He sighed as he remembered what had happened. He felt horrible for pushing Rich that hard. If only he’d spoken up earlier, before Rich had left the room. Maybe everything would be okay, then. Maybe Michael would have had Rich in his arms that night too.

He got up, slowly getting dressed, feeling even worse when he saw the clothes his moms had bought for Rich still in bags on the bedroom floor. If only he’d managed to figure out how to speak. Rich would understand if he’d just been able to explain, but in that moment he couldn’t even breathe.

Everything seemed to be a blur that morning. He wouldn’t even speak to Jeremy as they walked. He couldn’t. He felt like complete sh*t for what he’d done. Rich’s dad hurt him, too. What if Michael had brought back some horrible traumatic memories by pushing him away? He felt his breathing speed up as he thought about it, walking down that quiet alleyway, his breaths echoing.

Jeremy heard, and immediately realised what was happening, stopping where he was.

“Michael, stop. I don’t know why you’re panicking, but I know that something’s clearly upset you, so just listen to me, okay? Deep breaths, remember?” he said, his voice soft.

Michael stopped where he was, but continued to breathe quickly and heavily.

“Look at me, okay?” He said. He’d talked Michael through quite a few panic attacks, so he vaguely had an idea of what he was doing.

Michael nodded, looking up at Jeremy’s face, his eyes wide.

Jeremy slowly talked him through it, helping him to calm down, waiting until he wasn’t quite as shaky to speak again.

“Do you want to talk about what’s wrong?”

Michael took a deep breath. Before he could even register it, he was explaining everything to Jeremy in what felt like one long sentence that went on forever, going over everything from the way he was hurt to the way he ended up hurting Rich, leaving out details about how Rich’s dad hurt him.

“Jesus…” Jeremy whispered, once Michael had finished talking. He took one look at Michael’s still slightly panicked face, before making a decision. “f*ck school, we’re going back to yours today, okay?”

Michael shook his head. “No. I need to talk to Rich. I need to.”

“What difference will it make if you tell him you’re not mad today or you tell him you’re not mad tomorrow? Either way, it’ll work out, okay?”
He let out another quiet sigh. He knew he couldn’t explain Rich’s dad hurting him to Jeremy. That wasn’t his place to say. He just hoped Rich would be okay for one more evening.

Jeremy took Michael’s hand, squeezing it in an attempt to provide him comfort, starting to lead him back to his house, sending a message to his dad explaining some things, knowing his dad would understand, before taking Michael’s phone and doing the same with his moms.
“I miss him,” Were the only words Michael could manage as he walked home, his fingers intertwined with Jeremy’s.

“He’s not gone forever. He’ll be back. You care about each other a lot,” Jeremy told him. “You just… didn’t communicate properly. Not just you, either. Don’t blame yourself. Neither of you did. And I don’t think either of you are to blame, either.”

Michael nodded, sighing, leading Jeremy up to his bedroom.

Straight away, Jeremy was flopped back on the bed. He opened his arms, looking at Michael expectantly, relieved when Michael lay down next to him, resting his head on Jeremy’s chest.

Jeremy ran a hand through his hair, playing with it a little. Michael was always extremely affectionate when Jeremy was upset, so he’d picked up on it, copying Michael’s way of being gentle and caring to make him feel better.

Soon, Jeremy heard a very quiet, soft sniffling, Michael’s shoulders shaking a little. He hadn’t cried since the day he was hurt, aside from when he was panicking over Rich. He hadn’t let himself. He didn’t want to break down. He didn’t want to accept that what had happened to him had hurt him.

More than just hurt.

Shattered.

He didn’t know where to even begin with healing, a pain in his chest. Jeremy being there was comforting, but more than anything he just wanted to wrap his arms around Rich. To beg him to stay forever so he’d be safe. And now Rich was who knows where... experiencing who knows what.

He was probably with his-

The word got stuck in his brain, like he couldn’t even dare to think about it.

His-

Nothing. Still nothing. Rich needed protecting, and he’d known his dad would be insanely mad for Rich staying with Michael, even for just one night. One night of safety just led to ten times more danger.

Michael started to sob softly, tears dripping down his face as he thought about it, soaking into Jeremy’s shirt. It was like everything that had happened over the last week had finally caught up to him, and he was a complete mess because of it.

Jeremy rubbed his back, trying to comfort him, not sure what words would be useful in the situation. All he could do was make sure Michael’s breathing didn’t pick up. He knew how Michael could get in these situations.

He remembered that day, where Michael had run up to his house, pounding on the door, a look of pure fear in his face. As soon as they were inside, Michael began to panic. Jeremy remembered how his breathing picked up speed and intensity, how his skin went pale and sickly, how badly he was shaking. All Jeremy could do that entire time was sit with him.

That was when Michael told him everything. How he’d been broken up with, and how instead of comfort, he was screamed at, kicked out for accepting his feelings. He’d packed up everything he could fit into a huge suitcase, before walking to Jeremy’s house, not hesitating for even a second.

He’d stayed over a couple of nights, until CPS found an emergency foster care placement for him. Not that he lasted long there. Two whole weeks, until his nightly panic attacks, waking up screaming, and cutting himself became too much for them to handle.

Michael had been passed around like some kind of ticking time bomb. It seemed as if every place couldn’t be quick enough to get rid of him. He’d been slowly worn down to nothingness. Finally, things seemed to be fitting back together. Two pieces of the puzzle had clicked together when he was put with his moms. Another when they told him they love him. Another when they gave him the pride flag.

Hoodie. Another.

Jeremy coming out. Another.

Calling them mom. Another.

Rich.

That one didn’t get the chance to stay in place. It seemed to be destroyed as soon as it got there.

Michael started to sob harder, clinging to Jeremy.

Jeremy sighed, holding him tighter. “You’re okay. It’s gonna be okay.”

They stayed like that for what felt like an eternity, before Michael’s sobs finally began to trail off.

Vivian opened the door slowly, before stepping in. She was on call as an emergency responder that day, but it wasn’t a busy day at the hospital, so she decided to check on Michael.

She saw him with his head on Jeremy’s chest, using a shaky hand to wipe away his tears. She walked in, sitting on the edge of the bed, putting her hand on Michael’s arm. “I know you’re worried about him. I can go to his house later today, just to check on him?” She suggested. “I know his address.”

“Wait, how?” Jeremy asked, confused.

“Long story, sweetheart,” She replied. “But I can check on him later, once the school day’s over.”

At almost that exact moment, her phone went off. She checked it, reading through the notification, going a little pale. “I have to go. I’ll be back as soon as I can, okay?” She told him, her voice laced with panic as she dashed out the room, grabbing her work bag on the way, leaving Michael and Jeremy alone.

Chapter 29: Stitches

Chapter Text

It was hours before she returned home, and at that point, Jeremy was already long gone. Some apology message from Jake. It seemed like a genuine apology, too, though Michael wasn’t quite sure if they’d end up together again. Jeremy wasn’t the only one who’d received an apology, either. Michael had, for Jake sharing around the picture.

He assumed Rich had received an apology, too. Not that he’d know. Texts were going through to Rich and he was reading them, but Michael wasn’t getting any kind of reply from him. Nothing. All he could do was assume Rich hated him.

He was fighting off every urge to hurt himself again, just keeping his knees pulled to his chest, numbness rushing through him.

In all honesty, he couldn’t care less if Jeremy got back with Jake at that point. He knew it was what Jeremy wanted, and Jake had done a decent job redeeming himself with the apologies. He just wanted his Rich back.

Not really his Rich. Especially not now he’d hurt him.

Rich’s dad hurt him. Michael hurt him too. In his mind, that made him just as bad. In reality, there was no way to even compare the two. Rich’s dad seemed to get a sick joy out of hurting him. Michael had panicked and pushed him away. Michael couldn’t quite make the distinction between those two things, though.
Vivian opened the bedroom door, going over to Michael’s side straight away, sitting on the bed.

“Can we talk, sweetheart?” She whispered, waiting for Michael to give her some kind of acknowledgement, offering her hand when he gave her a subtle nod.

She helped him sit up, him shaking far too much to get up from his curled up position by himself, before sitting opposite him on the bed. She offered her hands to him, feeling a little relief when Michael took them, giving them a very slight squeeze.

“I have some bad news for you. I got a message about an emergency patient. A teenage boy, your age, who had been badly hurt by his father. They found him unconscious in a pile of broken glass.”

She knew Michael had picked up on what she was talking about when he tilted his head down, the tears starting to fall again. He was too weak to hold them back, too weak to even make a sound, just letting out quiet sniffles, his head down towards the bed.

“Is it..?” He managed weakly, already knowing the answer was yes.

“Yes, sweetheart,” She sighed. “It’s Rich.”

Michael let go of her hands, before throwing his arms around her, needing the support, his crying becoming even more rough and afraid.

“Don’t worry, sweetheart. He’ll be okay. We’ll find somewhere safe for him to stay.”

Michael pulled back, shaking his head. “No. That’s what they said to me with my parents. They said they would find somewhere safe. I was just thrown around for a year. I wasn’t safe. I was scared and hurting and I don’t want Rich to have to deal with that, too.”

“I promise we’ll do lots of research into finding him somewhere good to stay, okay? We won’t let the same thing happen to him. I promise,” She whispered, trying her best to console him.

Once Michael had managed to calm down a little, she got her phone out, checking for an update. “They’ve finished stitching him up. Do you want to come with me to see him? The first thing he said when he woke up was your name, honey. He asked where you were.”

Michael nodded quickly, standing up, throwing some of the clothes they’d bought for Rich in a bag so he’d have something to get changed into, before heading straight for the door.

She followed, wanting to get him there so he and Rich would have enough time to talk before visiting hours ended, getting in the driver’s side.

Michael got in the passenger seat, bouncing his leg from anxiety. “What else did he say?”

“He asked where you were, so we explained to him what had happened, and when he came round a little more, he asked if you hate him. I told him that you miss him and want him back with us.”

“And… what did he say?” Michael whispered.

“Nothing. He just… started to cry. He seemed really distressed, but he wouldn’t talk much. I told him I’d go and get you.”

Michael nodded slowly, not sure exactly what to say to that, feeling his heart break a little at the fact that Rich had been crying when he was told Michael wanted him back.

The rest of the car journey was in silence, but it wasn’t exactly peaceful. Michael was still bouncing his leg, staring at the window, trying to figure out how long it would be until they got there.

Vivian decided not to interrupt his clear train of thought, just focusing on getting them both to the hospital as quickly as they could.

Michael was out of the car before she’d even parked it, hopping out as soon as she’d pulled halfway into the space. He grabbed the bag of Rich’s things, before starting to walk as quickly as he could.

Vivian followed soon after, chasing after Michael a little before leading him to the room Rich was in.

Rich looked pale and weak, his arms tightly bandaged. He had a dark bruise forming under his eye, and a busted, bloody lip. Michael noticed vomit on his shirt, along with patches of blood. He stopped straight away, trying to take it all in.

Rich slowly looked up, seeing Michael, his dark brown eyes looking dull and lifeless. “Michael?” He choked out, seeing his shocked expression. “I’m sorry. I look… I look f*cking gross right now, I just… wanted to apologise. For…” He stopped, coughing slightly, seeming to barely even notice that he’d coughed up a little blood. His voice was hoarse and choking. “For kissing you. I should have thought more.”

Michael felt a rush of emotion pour through his body, but he couldn’t quite pinpoint one thing.
Fear. That was definitely there. He wanted Rich to be safe. He wanted him to be okay. Anger, too. Complete rage that someone could hurt someone as sweet as Rich so badly, and somehow be okay with themself after it. Maybe a little relief, too. This was the final straw for Rich’s father, and Vivian had promised to help find him somewhere safe to live.

Rich looked away when Michael didn’t reply, the painkillers making him a little less able to control his emotions like he normally did, the tears starting to fall again, dripping into the scratches on his face. “I’m sorry…”

Quickly, Michael sat on the edge of the hospital bed. “It’s okay,” He replied, his voice soft, but still a little shaky. “I’m just… so f*cking pissed at your dad.”

“He saw the texts, Michael,” Rich whispered, his voice quivering. “My texts to Jake about how I kissed you when you weren’t expecting it. He started calling me slurs. He said he was going to kill me for this. He just grabbed me and started hurting me and attacking me and doing whatever he could and then I just… I just… passed out. I thought I was going to die. I thought this was it,” He told Michael, looking terrified.

“Rich… oh my god… I’m so sorry,” Michael said, pulling him into a hug, quickly pulling away when Rich let out a slight pained whimper. “Can I help you get changed? I think you threw up on your shirt.”

“You brought clothes for me?” He asked in a hushed tone, a little surprised.

Michael nodded, carefully helping Rich sit up, seeing how weak he currently was. The shirt was stuck to Rich with blood, which Vivian quickly noticed, going over to him. “sh*t, I don’t know how we missed that. Can I cut your shirt off you?” She asked Rich, already grabbing the scissors.

He nodded, leaning against Michael to help himself stay upright as she cut his shirt off him, gasping a little when she saw the deep cuts from the broken glass, surrounded by bruises. “Michael, you can leave if you want.”

“I’m staying,” Michael said quietly, taking one of the antibacterial wipes his mom had started to use on Rich, helping her out, starting to clean him up, watching as his mom put a dressing on the worst of the wounds.

Once Rich had been cleaned up and the cuts had stopped bleeding, Michael grabbed a sweater out the bag, helping him to pull it on. He watched as Vivian poured out a glass of water, before taking it, holding it up to Rich’s mouth to help him drink it.

Eventually, when Rich wasn’t quite so afraid, he found himself moving his head over to Michael’s chest, his eyes drooping a little. Once he was comfortable in that familiar warmth, he started to drift off to sleep, smiling slightly as Michael played with his hair. “I missed you.”

“I missed you too. Thank you for not being mad because I pushed you away,” He whispered.

“Thank you for not being mad because I kissed you when you weren’t expecting it,” He managed, before falling asleep on Michael’s chest, seeming surprisingly peaceful.

Chapter 30: Underwater

Notes:

IT'S ALIIIIIIIIVE! (and by it i mean me. yes, i'm still doing this)

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“Michael, are you okay?” Vivian whispered, heading to his side once Rich was fast asleep. She couldn’t help but be worried about him. He’d already been through so much, and he was so incredibly fond of Rich that seeing him in such a bad state when Michael was already worn down and damaged from his recent experiences must have been heart-breaking.

“Yes… I mean, maybe? I don’t know. I’m just worried about him,” He sighed, playing with Rich’s hair. “He doesn’t deserve this.” Despite his mother’s fear, Michael wasn’t even thinking about his own problems, entirely focused on the boy in his arms. He watched the way Rich’s mouth hung very slightly open, his lip swollen and red, dark red clots of blood already forming over his injuries. A blotchy red shade covered his cheeks, the colour spreading like some kind of miserable watercolour painting.

“No one does,” She replied, her voice still not rising in volume, despite how upset she was. She was simply just relieved that Rich was actually sleeping, considering the extremity of his injuries and the pain he must have experienced. “It disgusts me. I don’t see how any parent could do this to their kid.”

Michael pulled Rich a little closer, tightening his arms around him, staying quiet for a few moments, turning his attention back to his injured boyfriend, pushing some hair out of his face, trying to distract himself from how much Vivian’s comment hurt. He didn’t exactly miss his parents, but it certainly hurt him to know how disposable he was to them. When he finally spoke, it was in a bitter tone, his words seeming sharp and annoyed. “Well, mine would have been happy to leave me on the street to die as soon as they found out I was a f*cking f-”

“I’m gonna stop you right there,” Vivian butted in, noticing the annoyance in her son’s words. Despite the fact that he was trying to say it in a casual manner, she knew how much it hurt Michael to think about. She wouldn’t allow him to insult himself as others had insulted him. “No. You’re not saying that about yourself, Michael. You say it’s no big deal to you, but I know it is. I can tell. You just have this look on your face, and I know it hurts you,” She told him, a little sternly. “And your biological family didn’t deserve you. I don’t think I deserve you, either, but I’m lucky to have you.”

“You deserve better than me.”

Vivian reached out to take his hand, squeezing. “I’ve barely had you in my life for six months, but you’re the best thing to happen to me and Cat, you know? We saw your file and we met you and you moved in and of course we were so, so worried about you, but having you there just felt right,” She insisted, every word being the truth. Michael had completed her tiny family in a way no one had expected him to. He’d just slotted right in, despite the pain and trauma he’d experienced.
Michael didn’t reply to the comment, not believing that he was that important to her. He simply turned his attention back to Rich, moving a hand up and cupping it over his cheek, pale skin and newly formed scratches meeting a soft, caring touch.

Rich’s chest rose and fell in a rhythmic pattern, his head turning very slightly, leaning into Michael’s palm, seeming to know that this was someone he could trust.

“I’ll make sure you can stay overnight,” Vivian whispered to Michael, knowing he wouldn’t want to be taken away from someone he’d been so insistent on protecting from the start.

“Thank you,” Michael whispered back, his voice barely audible, his eyes locked onto Rich’s sleeping body. “Please make sure you have some say in where he goes. He doesn’t need to struggle any more than he already has.”

“I will, honey. I’ll do the best I can, okay?”

Michael nodded, acknowledging her effort, but feeling relieved when she finally left the two of them alone. It wasn’t that he didn’t like having her around, he just felt like he needed some privacy, only wanting to focus on Rich.

Thoughts wouldn’t stop running through his brain, the frequency almost seeming to rival the steady ticking of the clock nailed to the wall. His phone lay abandoned and drained of battery on a chair next to the small hospital bed, all of his focus on the frail body he refused to let go of.

The passing time felt painfully slow, despite how rapidly his thoughts were coming and going. To him, it felt like he was underwater, everything around him moving at a crawling pace.

Suddenly, he was pulled to the surface by a horrible, scratching cough. Rich shot up, his face pale, clamping his hand to his mouth, his chest heaving, tearing up from how hard he was coughing. Michael immediately felt called to action, noticing that Rich was coughing so hard he was gagging, grabbing one of the vomit bags in the hospital room.

He rubbed Rich’s back softly, waiting for the horrible, pained sound of Rich throwing up everything he’d eaten to stop.

“I’m sorry,” Rich choked out, tired, aching, and embarrassed.

Michael dropped the bag into the trash, reaching over to grab a tissue, wiping Rich’s face in a protective manner. “You have nothing to apologise for. Do you need one of the doctors?” He whispered.

Rich shook his head. “I’m okay. Just… not a nice thing to wake up to.”

“I know, baby.” The word slipped out of Michael’s mouth like it was the most natural thing in the world, his voice having a familiar smooth tone that Rich felt comforted to hear. Michael took another tissue, noticing the blood on Rich’s hand, assuming he’d coughed it up, slowly wiping his hand clean, before bringing it up to his mouth and pressing a kiss to it.

“I’m guessing this means you don’t hate me, then?” Rich joked quietly. “I thought you’d be so mad…”

“You didn’t do anything wrong. You just… got a little enthusiastic and I panicked. Like I always do. And now you’re here. God, this is all my f*cking fault. If I’d just spoken up a little faster you’d still be at my place and we’d be in my bed. Probably fast asleep and comfortable. Now you’re all scratched up and bandaged because of me being overdramatic. I hurt you, Rich. I’m just as bad as he is.”

“Shut up,” Rich replied quickly, his voice raspy. “I don’t care if that sounds harsh. Just shut up. I don’t want to hear it. You’re the first person to show me kindness in God f*cking knows how long. You’re nothing like my dad. For one thing, hurting me was an accident. You panicked. My dad does it for fun,” He protested, seeming frustrated.

“Oh… okay. I’m sorry,” Michael whispered, feeling a little guilty, tightening his grip on Rich as soon as he mentioned his dad’s joy in hurting him.

“It’s… fine. Just-” He sighed, shutting his eyes tightly as he thought. “Stop being so hard on yourself. Please. I think you’re like… the best person I know.”

Michael nodded, running a hand through Rich’s hair again, before placing a soft kiss on his forehead. “Thank you,” He whispered, deciding to take the compliment for once instead of arguing against it, despite the fact that his initial instinct would be to deny every positive about himself.

“You don’t need to thank me,” He sighed, curling into Michael’s side. “Just stop saying you’re so sh*t,” He mumbled, burying his face into Michael’s chest. “I know I’ve already said it, but I missed you.”

“I missed you too,” He whispered. “I was so worried about you. I was gonna message or call but nothing was going through.”

“Dad wrecked my phone. I think he took out the SIM card and read all my texts. I’m f*cked if I go home again, now he knows he’s got a queer kid for sure,” He groaned. “I wanted to talk to you so badly but you weren’t at school and I couldn’t text you.”

“I’m sorry,” He whispered. “I broke down on the way to school and Jeremy insisted I stayed at home. I wanted to find you. I really, really did,” He insisted.

“I believe you,” He replied, hearing how determined Michael sounded. He buried his face into Michael’s hoodie once more, breathing in the very slight vanilla smell Michael always seemed to have. He guessed it was some kind of body spray or something. No matter what it was, it smelled amazing. He relaxed against Michael, feeling himself drifting off almost as suddenly as he’d woken up, his eyes heavy.

“You’re so cute,” Michael whispered, laughing weakly.

“f*ck off,” Rich replied, despite nuzzling into him a little more, letting his tiredness win.

Chapter 31: Bruises

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Despite Michael’s protests and insistence, his mothers still made sure he went to school every day, knowing he had a lot to catch up on. Rich was in hospital for only a few more days, and Michael was absolutely determined that every free moment he had would be spent there with him. School was a complete drag, as per usual, with Michael’s constant nerves only making the whole situation seem worse.

Jeremy, despite getting back with Jake, spent most of his time with Michael, making sure he was still eating properly and keeping up with work, with a little help from a very guilty Jake, who was clearly trying his damn best to make up for all the sh*tty things he’d said, with varying levels of success.

Michael barely seemed to notice the worry focused on him, though, too wrapped up in his own thoughts to realise people were concerned about him, spending all his free time thinking about Rich. They’d mentioned a temporary foster placement for him, words that automatically struck Michael with fear.

He’d been thrown around enough to know how horrible some foster places could be. It’s not like the carers had bad intentions, they just couldn’t handle lots of traumatised children. Michael knew his moms had been overwhelmed at first, and he was just one child. Some of these places had almost ten, barely enough space for them all, and not enough time to spend helping each individual.

Rich needed a safe space where he’d be well looked after, and he needed it far more than anyone else Michael had known. As soon as Rich had lost his mother he’d been plunged into a world of confusion and pain, unable to do anything to drag himself out of it, and he finally had an opportunity to be happy, unable to avoid Michael’s extreme fear that something would go horribly wrong.

Still, despite Michael’s worry, Rich was making a quick recovery in the hospital, and seemed strangely hopeful about what might happen. After all, it really couldn’t get much worse for him than it had already been, so just the idea that he’d be eating three meals a day and would be able to speak his mind without being hit was enough to provide some hope for him. However, he couldn’t stop worrying about how far away from Michael he’d end up, petrified that he’d have to move away from his closest companion. Yes, Michael was his boyfriend, but he was also his support system; his reason to not completely give up.

The main thing getting Michael through every school day was knowing he’d get to see Rich again at the end of it, packing up his bags and heading straight for the parking lot, where Catherine would normally be waiting for him, ready to drive him over to the hospital.

This day was no different, Michael wrenching open the car door and getting in the passenger side, tossing his bag into the back seat and buckling his seatbelt.

At this point, Catherine didn’t even bother to ask about his day, knowing she’d get the same blunt response of ‘Fine,’ with Michael just wanting to get to the hospital. She flashed him a smile, before starting to drive.

Once they got there, after what was only a few minutes but always seemed to feel like hours, dragging on by in a painfully slow crawl, Michael darted out the car, rushing towards the same room he was so used to, only to stop in his tracks out of worry.

“Please don’t make me talk about it,” Rich begged Vivian, his eyes wide and skin pale around the dark bruises. “I don’t want to,” He sounded desperate and afraid, looking down at his hands and picking at his nails.

“Rich, sweetheart, I want to help you. We have reason to believe some of your injuries are self-inflicted, and we were hoping you could work with us a little, here? Talk about it so we can find the right therapist for you? You’ve been through so much, honey, it’s okay to need some help,” Vivian whispered, her voice soft. So, so soft. So soft and soothing and kind that Rich didn’t trust it.

“I told you, I’m fine. They’re old cuts. I don’t do it any more,” He lied, trying to add as much conviction to his tone as he could without seeming insincere. “I don’t need therapy. I’m not broken or anything.”

“No one thinks you’re broken, Rich. No one,” She sighed, looking up and spotting Michael in the doorway, tilting her head to gesture for him to come in.

Michael sat down on the hospital bed, wrapping his arms tightly around Rich, pulling him into his lap in an attempt to comfort him, seeing how stressed he was getting.

Rich seemed to relax almost straight away, melting against Michael, curling up into his warm touch, managing a small smile as he felt Michael interlock their hands, lacing their fingers together. “Sorry,” He mumbled to Vivian. “Can we just talk about it another time? I think the painkillers are f*cking with my mind.”

“Of course, Rich,” Vivian said softly, slightly shocked by how quickly having Michael there changed Rich’s mood. It was slightly heartbreaking to witness, though, knowing that Rich had gotten so used to having nobody there for him that just the feeling of having someone he genuinely felt like he could trust was all he needed to change his mood in an instant, the situation still unfamiliar to him.

“I’ve got you,” Michael whispered, his voice light and breathy, noticing how quickly it seemed to calm Rich down.

Rich nodded, tilting his head expectantly, smiling when Michael tilted his head down to kiss his bruised cheek, his lips barely brushing against the skin so as not to add pressure onto the injuries. Rich’s lip was still a little swollen, with scabbing over it from where his father had hit him so hard his teeth had broken through skin. Despite how much he wanted to, Michael knew he’d have to wait to kiss him properly, sticking to the very delicate cheek and neck kisses that always seemed to leave Rich calm but a little-red faced.
“Should I give you two some space?” Vivian asked softly, knowing she had some paperwork to deal with to do with Rich’s fostering situation, extremely involved with it out of fear he’d end up somewhere not right for him.

Michael nodded, his chin resting on Rich’s shoulder, his arms wrapped around him, squeezing as tightly as he could without hurting him. Rich felt fragile, weak from too many years of not eating properly.

Every time Rich had to take his shirt off to get the dressings changed on his wounds, the image of deathly pale skin stretched over his ribcage, mottled by bruises and old scars from being beaten half to death, became further imprinted in Michael’s mind. It showed up in his thoughts when he was distracted, in his dreams when he tried to sleep, haunting him, reminding him that the person he cared about so much had been treated so badly.

Michael had struggled with eating for a while after being taken out of his home, but he’d had a different problem. He’d always had food available when he needed it, despite the messy nature of the places he’d stayed. That was one thing they could always provide. They had no personal support for him, but a fully stocked kitchen.

Food became his support network for a while, and once his mothers took him into their home, he finally managed to slow down a little, finding a support system with them instead of continuing to binge his sorrows on bags of chips.

He still had a little extra weight, but he always had done, and never really saw a problem with it. Rich especially didn’t seem to mind it, always squeezing Michael tightly, calling him a human teddy bear, resting his head against Michael’s chest at any moment he could.

Rich cuddled up against Michael, listening to his heartbeat, tracing his finger over his chest, before teasingly pushing his hand under Michael’s hoodie, resting it on his stomach. “I love how warm you are,” He whispered.

“I’m a human heater,” Michael joked, laughing a little. “And you have very cold hands, you gremlin, please stick to keeping your hands above the hoodie until they’re at least warmer than freezing,” He told him, unable to stop smiling.

Rich had dealt with a lot of mood swings over the course of that week, especially with how much he had to talk about his horrible experiences, so Michael couldn’t help but love these moments, where Rich finally seemed to accept himself for who he was, appreciating his connection with Michael, letting himself fall for him even harder every day. His personal acceptance may have been partially out of spite, knowing his dad would absolutely hate it, but no matter the cause, he was finally letting himself be the way he felt like he should be.

Playground Minds - bemorecandystore - Be More Chill (2024)

Chapter 1: Decay

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Chapter 2: Trust

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Chapter 3: Tears

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Chapter 4: Nostalgia

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Chapter 5: Breath

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Chapter 6: Friendship

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Chapter 7: Label

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Chapter 8: Noise

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Chapter 9: Bitter

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Chapter 10: Wallet

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Chapter 11: History

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Chapter 12: Anger

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Chapter 13: Weak

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Chapter 14: Sleep

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Chapter 15: Fluttery

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Chapter 16: Soft

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Chapter 17: Home

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Chapter 18: Mirror

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Chapter 19: Makeup

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Chapter 20: Touch

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Chapter 21: Family

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Chapter 22: Safe

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Chapter 23: Forgive

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Chapter 24: Reason

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Chapter 25: Proud

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Chapter 26: Kiss

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Chapter 27: Shatter

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Chapter 28: Puzzle

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Chapter 29: Stitches

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Chapter 30: Underwater

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Chapter 31: Bruises

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References